Serendipitous Saturation
by mayzee
Summary: AU where Jane and Lisbon have yet to meet. She works for the CBI, he runs a diner. A brief crossing of paths on Christmas Eve leads to love as his mother attempts to act as matchmaker. Mostly lighthearted but there is some angst later on, but some humour too. Rated T, some M later on for sexual scenes. Reviews, as ever, are much appreciated. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so I have no idea where this idea came from. Blame lack of sleep and a bout of silliness for this one. It is a loosely Christmas based oneshot that I have decided to extend into a short-ish multichapter. It is what I guess you'd call extreme AU. But I hope you like it nonetheless.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist; if I did I'd be spending Christmas in Fiji.**

* * *

Serendipitous Saturation

Chapter 1 – A Safe Haven

Teresa Lisbon traipsed down the street, large puddles impeding her progress as she walked around them, her head down and leather jacket pulled tightly around her. While her sweater was saved from the worst of it, her blue jeans were soaked through and she knew she'd have to steep in a bath and scrub the dye from her legs when she made it home. The fact that the torrential rainstorm that had passed over Sacramento and had seemingly followed her for the past ten blocks had eased to a constant mizzle did not improve her mood. Trust her to have her car break down on Christmas Eve on the way back from a crime scene. Her team had all already flown or driven to their respective homes for the holidays and she had volunteered to work the end of the shift on her own. She tried to see the bright side that the man found dead an hour ago was a suicide so meant less paperwork but it was hardly something to celebrate. They were ten a penny this time of year.

Her chestnut locks drenched and no trace of the little make up she wore left on her freezing pale skin she trudged on, long given up in the hope of catching a cab. "Damn Christmas," she huffed under her breath as she watched shoppers and partygoers run past her, giddy with both kinds of Christmas spirit, oblivious to the incessant rain. She told herself just ten more blocks and she'd be home in her condo, the heating switched on and where a hot bath would await her, accompanied by a large glass of red wine. That is, if she didn't have hypothermia by then, she glumly forecasted.

She rubbed her hands together, blue from cold, checking shop fronts as she went by, looking out for a coffee shop where she could warm them for a few minutes around a hot steaming cup of Joe. But it appeared everyone had the same idea as she had and each one she passed was packed to the rafters, leaving standing room only and a queue to the door. Then she narrowed her eyes, wondering if her brain was playing tricks on her, if the downpour she'd encountered had made her have some kind of hallucination. A small diner stood in front of her suddenly, barely a customer present inside, like an oasis in the desert, festively fitted out with twinkling fairy tree lights around its windows. Probably empty as a result of the bad food it served, she told herself. But surely the coffee couldn't be that bad? And at least it looked warm and homely inside. Wasting no more time she ducked inside, a gold bell over the entrance announcing her presence.

Amid the Christmas music patrons turned around to look at her immediately and she would have blushed if her cold cheeks had allowed it. After a second where they stared her up and down they went back to their conversations or food with little interest in her. She took a step then stopped, the squelch of her boots now she was inside sounding like cannon fire to her. The glorious smells from the dishes she noted around her made her lick her lips, her stomach adding to the sound of her footsteps in agreement.

An attractive woman in her late fifties came up to her from behind the counter and greeted her with an enormous smile. "Jeez, sweetie, you look wetter than a dog's tongue!"

Lisbon frowned, the saying lost on her. "Uh-"

Before she had a chance to speak the blonde waitress had taken her arm in a vice like grip and led her to the counter. "I'll take a booth," Lisbon said as she gesticulated to the front window, but the older woman tutted and shook her head. "No, you will not, my dear. You'll sit up front beside the food warmer. I'll crank it up; you'll be toasty in no time. Now, tell me, what size are you?" She frowned as she gave her a quick onceover before nodding rapidly. "A 2 I'd say."

"Sorry?" Lisbon replied, wide eyed. She immediately decided the wacky waitress she'd just met must be partly or perhaps fully to blame for the lack of customers since the food smelled divine.

The older woman patted her affectionately on the shoulder and practically shoved her into a seat at the counter, "Don't worry, now take this jacket off, I'll figure something out for you while you get settled."

* * *

Lisbon found herself blindly doing as she was told and slipped off her jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair, utterly bewildered by what had just occurred. She felt like she'd just unwittingly been cast in an episode of The Twilight Zone. She took a breath and shook her head, drips from her dark brown curls hitting the shoulders of her red sweater and making her shiver. As if on cue the lamps on the food warmer at her right hand side began to turn from gold to orange and she felt some warmth hit her face at last. She cast her hair over her right shoulder, dragging the droplets of rainwater to its ends and using a napkin from the counter to try soaking up the excess.

"You might do better with this," a man's voice said to her left, amusement evident in his tone.

She turned her head and a blond Adonis in a slim fitting white T shirt dazzled her with a smile that made her stomach do a somersault. He paused for a second as he openly studied her, his green blue eyes seeking her emerald ones after making a quick detour to the rest of her first. "Here, try this," he said, taking a step forward and offering her a clean towel for her hair.

"Um...thank you," she said quietly, hoping she could blame the heater at her side for the sudden flush of her cheeks.

"My pleasure," he said smoothly with another smile as he leaned his elbows and crossed his arms lazily on the counter between them.

She hastily began to dry her hair and laughed nervously, "What kind of place is this? You offer towels to all your customers?"

"Only the wet ones," he replied, more than a hint of suggestiveness in his tone.

Her eyes widened at his remark and he began to laugh, "Sorry couldn't resist," he said, still chuckling softly at her shocked expression.

"I'm Patrick, by the way," he said, extending a hand to her.

"Teresa," she said, shaking it. She paused, "Though why I should tell you that after that remark, I don't know."

He held her gaze as well as her hand. "So then why did you?"

She licked her lips as her eyes darted to his full mouth opposite her. Maybe she was coming down with pneumonia and was fighting a temperature that was making her feel like some kind of giddy teenager. She pulled her hand away sharply as his finger lingered over her wrist, warming it instantly.

"Must be because I have a fever or something," she replied tersely to get a hold of herself.

He arched an eyebrow and nodded. "Of course, that must be why," he said in an assured tone that she knew meant the opposite.

She picked up the menu to focus on something other than the gorgeous man in front of her. "So, what do you recomm-"

She stopped the words just in time; realising asking that question might bring her more trouble from the man facing her who still hadn't taken his eyes off her. "What's good he-"

She rolled her eyes, suddenly everything she thought of saying sounded like an innuendo.

"You don't need the menu," he told her, taking it out of her hands swiftly and placing it behind him.

"I don't?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"Nope," he replied with a shake of the head. "I know what you need."

When he saw her eyebrows shoot up he laughed again. "And no, I'd never be so crass to say it was me you needed. Or something much smuttier, come to that."

His laugh warmed her blood more than the heat lamp beside her. Beginning to enjoy their flirtatious banter she said, "I can see why you don't have many customers if that's your attitude to them," she remarked. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'the customer is always right'?"

"Heard of it, of course. But it's total nonsense."

"Nonsense?" she laughed.

His eyes sparkled back at her. "Entirely. Take you, for example. You were going to order a chicken salad before I stopped you."

She blinked rapidly, "How did you know that?"

"Doesn't matter. The point is you were going to order it because it's good for you. What you really want...what you really desire, Teresa...is an enormous cheeseburger with onion rings." He'd leaned across the counter towards her as he spoke, his voice huskier with every word and the s's in her name turning into soft z's instead.

Her breathing quickened and she swallowed. "Why wouldn't I just order it then?" she just got out.

"That's an interesting question, isn't it?" he smiled. "Why don't you think about that while I get your burger? Be right back."

He sauntered into the back and she took a deep breath. She reddened when she realised why she'd bypassed the cheeseburger for the salad. She didn't want to appear to eat like a pig in front of him with ketchup dribbling down her chin. "Wise ass," she said under her breath.

* * *

Jane reached the sanctuary of the kitchen and took a breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his black jeans. What the hell had just happened out there? He'd flirted openly with the raven haired beauty at the counter. As soon as he saw her trying to dry her hair on that napkin he was entranced. And when she'd turned her head he was beckoned further with those shimmering pools of jade. Instinctively he'd just talked to her like he'd known her for years. Well, perhaps with a little extra charm and fake confidence sprinkled in so she wouldn't realise how affected he was by her, along with a little arrogance and assurance added into the mix to distract her further.

But if he believed in previous lives he would have sworn he'd met her in one. All at once he felt at ease in her company and wanted her to like him. With a few exceptions he usually didn't give a damn whether he was liked or not by anyone. But from how hard she'd tried to hide it from him he was certain she did. He hadn't talked with a woman like that since his wife died five years prior. Sure he'd been on a few dates but lacked interest in pursuing something more with any of them. He had his daughter Charlotte, his pride and joy and the only female who held his heart firmly in her tiny grasp since he'd lost Angela.

Well, he had Charlotte and the other woman in his life who he just heard call out his name.

"Patrick, are you okay?" the woman in question said as she made her way into the kitchen from the back stairs. He noticed she was carrying a pair of jeans in her hand. "Mom, really?" he said, shaking his head. "Don't tell me those are for Teresa?"

His mother's face brightened immediately. "Oh, you met her, did you?" she grinned. "I wondered what had just gotten into you. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her that you two would hit it off."

He rolled his eyes. "I thought I used to be the fake psychic, not you, mother."

Sadness and regret suddenly filled her expression. "You know I don't like to think about those days," she said softly, extending her hand to brush a wayward blond curl from his forehead.

"I know but you can't just pretend they didn't happen," he said with affection.

"I can when it's Christmas," she argued, straightening up and planting a smile on her face again. "Now, I'll go talk you up to that lovely young woman out there while you make her something delicious to eat."

"I'm perfectly capable of talking myself up, thank you. And please don't start this matchmaking stuff again." He pointed to the pants in her hands. "And you need to stop dressing the customers."

"Oh hush," she said, raising herself on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. "It's not like you're any better, not even giving them what they order every time you feel like it or almost poisoning them if you don't like the look of them."

She bounded past him with a renewed spring in her step before he could respond.

* * *

"I can't believe your mother was able to persuade me to change into these jeans," Lisbon smiled as she ate a chunk out of one of the best burgers she'd ever had in her life as Jane sat beside her, his elbow resting on the counter and a cup of tea balanced in his other hand. After two minutes of trying to eat it delicately she'd given up much to Jane's gratification.

The jeans Alison Jane had given her fitted her pretty well around the waist when she attached her belt but she'd had to turn up the hems of them a few times to fit her height. But they were bone dry and she was glad to out of those wet ones.

By now the few customers had dwindled to just one straggler as well as Lisbon. Dirty coat and scruffy beard he looked like he didn't have anywhere but a wet doorway for company to bring in Christmas. Lisbon had noticed Jane providing him with free pie and coffee while she ate. She wasn't entirely sure if he had done that out of the goodness of his heart or to impress her. Perhaps a little of both, she figured. It warmed her heart, either way.

"I learned some time ago it was fruitless arguing with my mother over pretty much anything," Jane grinned with a long sigh, interrupting her musings.

"She really buys this stuff in charity shops?" she laughed, turning back to topic and running a hand over the jeans she was now wearing.

"She lives upstairs; believe me you don't want to see the stuff she has up there. She's a hoarder by nature. But, over time, she gets rid of most of it and has to restock. She's clothed most of the vagrants that come in here. Whether they like it or not," he added with a chuckle.

"She's a character, I'll give you that," she grinned.

He laughed again. "She is that. Like mother like son, as they say." Then he noticed the homeless man get up from his seat out of the corner of his eye. "Excuse me a moment," he said to her, getting up himself.

As she indulged in an onion ring she frowned as she watched Jane talk to the other man. Then she noticed Patrick give him a card. Jane was suddenly encased in a hug that he reciprocated briefly before opening the door and waving the other man off.

Jane strolled back to her, his eyes set, challenging her to ask the question. "Okay, what was that about?" she said after a moment where she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Just doing my little bit for charity since it's Christmas," he told her with a small shrug.

"Which is?" she probed, when he said nothing more.

He said nothing for a moment then picked up his cup slowly, smiling over the rim at her. "You're very impatient, you know that?" he said after a long sip.

"Tell me something I don't know," she replied with a glare and a pout that quickened his pulse.

"I could tell you many things about yourself," he said, his tone low as his eyes locked on hers, amusement vanished from his features.

A quiver ran through her body. "Oh, like what?"

He leaned back in his chair and smiled smugly. "Well if I tell you everything now what possible reason would there be for you to return to see me?"

"I don't know. Maybe to see if it's possible to actually get what I order," she came back with quickly.

He began to laugh as his mother swung open the door from the kitchen. She winked at her son and then at Lisbon, pulling her raincoat tighter around her. "You take your time," she said to Jane with another rather obvious wink that he rolled his eyes at while a faint blush came to his cheeks. "I'll take care of things at home for you," she added.

"You sure, mom?" he asked. "I won't be long, have a few things to do still."

"Yes, you do," she told him, her eyes darting to his companion.

He shook his head at her but smiled. "I meant at home. Take a cab, will you, it's still wet out."

"Patrick, I'm not an invalid," she pointed out before pecking him on the cheek. She turned to Lisbon. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Teresa. I hope to see you again." She gave her son another pointed look as Lisbon tried to stifle a giggle. "It was nice meeting you too, Mrs Jane," she said when the woman turned her head again, attempting a straight face.

"Alison, my dear. Alison, like I told you."

"Okay, Alison," Lisbon smiled.

"That's better."

When she left Jane emitted a long sigh. "You see what I mean? I'm over thirty and she thinks I'm ten years old sometimes." Melancholy filled his face towards the end of the remark and Lisbon could see he was transported back to that age. While his mother and he seemed to have a strong relationship now she felt that perhaps it hadn't always been that way.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

He shook his head then grinned. Cheerfully, "Nothing. A story for another time. Assuming I get the chance to tell you."

She nodded, deciding not to push whatever lay in his history, and her heart racing at the idea of seeing him again. "I like her, your mother," she stated instead with a smile. "I get the feeling not too many people can tell you what to do."

He chuckled softly. "Just a couple. I get much the same feeling about you. You like to be the one in charge."

She shrugged noncommittally. "So, tell me about the homeless man."

"You're a detective, I'm sure you can guess."

She had purposefully taken off her badge when he'd gone into the kitchen to fetch her burger and had stayed away from her livelihood as a topic of conversation. Instead she said she worked in a government department. It was loosely correct. There were so few men she connected with but she liked this one more than any she could remember. But she'd found that normally when she told men who weren't cops what she did for a living she got the immediate brush off. "How-How did you know that?" she stammered.

"Come on, what else would you be?" he said with a wave of the hand. "It's obvious."

"It is?"

"Yep."

She couldn't see how it was so obvious but evidently she must have some sort of 'cop vibe' to her. "It doesn't...put you off?" she asked him.

"Put me off what?" he smirked.

Now they were alone she felt foolish. Perhaps he was just trying to cheer up a miserable single woman who was evidently spending Christmas alone if she was hanging around a diner at ten pm on Christmas Eve. Performing another act of charity for Christmas. He had a family, well a mother at least, to share the holidays with.

"Doesn't matter," she said quickly, getting off her stool and fetching some notes from her purse while avoiding his gaze.

"No," he said, touching her elbow gently and making her look up at him as he stood opposite her. "It doesn't put me off one bit," he added with absolute seriousness, his breath quickening at the thought he'd played it so cool she thought he'd rejected her. Perhaps he was out of practice at this dance, after all.

"Oh," she nodded before a smile crept across her lips.

He looked around the deserted diner and cleared his throat that suddenly felt parched. "Uh...it's getting late-"

"Of course," Lisbon said, shoving her hands through the arms of her leather jacket. "I'm sure you have lots to do, I better get going."

"Keep me company while I tidy up here first," he urged.

"Okay," she shrugged.

* * *

After clearing up he walked her outside and locked up behind him. She said, "Well, rain's stopped," as she looked up to the star scattered sky.

"Good, that's...good. I thought maybe...um...well...I could give you a ride home," he said as he bit on his bottom lip.

She crinkled her nose as she observed him, the bravado gone from his demeanour and replaced by nervousness instead.

"I understand if you don't want me to," he continued. "I mean...we've only just met-"

"Where's your car?" she grinned.

His teeth shone at her in the dark and he extended his right arm for her to thread her left one through. She rolled her eyes but did so anyway, the soft wool of his black winter coat warming her like a kitten's fur.

"You gave him a credit card," Lisbon said after they took a few steps together arm in arm. She was surprised how natural it felt to walk with a relative stranger like this, as if they'd been strolling down the street like this for years, their steps perfectly in tune with each other. "The homeless man," she clarified.

"Perhaps," he smiled as they reached his car and he reluctantly let go of her arm but allowed his fingers to ghost over hers briefly before they lost contact with each other as he opened the passenger door for her.

After they drove a few metres and she gave him directions she confirmed, "You gave a homeless man your credit card."

He glanced over at her. "I did. One of them."

"Isn't that...I mean isn't that incredibly...reckless?"

He shrugged. "It's only money. Plus, there's a relatively small limit on it." He laughed softly. "I'm not stupid, just generous."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Who are you, the real Santa Claus?"

"I don't know if red is my colour," he smiled. "But I've thought about growing a beard."

"Come on, you're having me on."

"No, I think a beard would suit me, don't you think?" he grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "Not about that. Why did you give him the card?"

He shrugged, "Why not?"

Another eye roll later she realised he was intent on keeping this particular conversation going around in circles. She was glad she'd never had to arrest him; she'd have no chance in getting anything out of him he didn't want to tell her.

"Just turn right up here," she said as they approached her street. He swerved the car and she pointed at her condo where he pulled up at the kerb beside it and killed the engine. She saw that tenseness in him again as he fiddled with his fingers for a moment before facing her.

"Thanks for bringing me home," she said before he spoke, feeling awkward herself now they were in such an intimate setting. "And thank your mother for the jeans," she laughed, hearing the uneasiness in it immediately.

"My pleasure and I will," he nodded as he chewed on the inside of his cheek momentarily. "So, I never asked...what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Work, I'm afraid," she said with a shrug.

"Well that doesn't sound like some festive fun," he smiled.

"It's okay. Hopefully it'll be quiet and I'll get some paperwork done."

"And that sounds like one of the saddest things I've ever heard in my life," he laughed.

She shrugged again. "It'll be fine. Gives me a chance for some quiet for a change. I could use it, to be honest."

He nodded, expecting she was telling the truth. Her job must be taxing on her and filled with chaos every day. It would do her the world of good to have some calmness in her life, even for a day. Him entering it may not be the right way to help with that, he thought ruefully. But the need to see her again overruled any further consideration into that line of thinking. "Look," he said, licking his lips, "I'd...well I'd like to ask you to my place tomorrow but-"

"No!" she laughed in astonishment. "We've only just met. It would hardly be appropriate to spend Christmas together, Patrick."

"Yeah, suppose not," he agreed, looking at his hands. If it weren't for Charlotte he'd have had no qualms about asking her to spend any or all of the day with him and doing everything in his power to ensure she acquiesced. He frowned as that thought took root in his brain, surprising him that he felt that way about her so quickly.

But Charlotte always came first and he could hardly introduce her to a woman on Christmas Day he'd just met. The truth was he hadn't encountered anyone he was so romantically interested in since his wife passed away that meant a meeting with his daughter was necessary. He wasn't entirely sure how she'd cope if it became so.

Silence began to encroach upon them as he battled with himself over the pros and cons of seeing her again now he'd had more time to think. "I better go in," she said.

"How about the day after tomorrow?" he said quickly and instinctively, looking back up from his lap. "Are you free then?"

"I-I think so," she replied tentatively.

He furrowed his brow. "You need to check your social calendar?" he smiled.

"No," she confirmed, with a shrug. "Sorry, I...I don't date much." Then she looked panic stricken. "It was a date you were suggesting, wasn't it?"

"I think so," he said slowly with another smile. He laughed softly. "I don't date much either."

She drew her head back. "I find _that_ hard to believe."

"I'm flattered," he grinned. Before she began to ask more questions about his past or his reasons for not dating he added, "So, how about I pick you up around...seven? We could go to dinner. Somewhere with cloth napkins instead of paper ones, perhaps."

"I don't really need all that fancy stuff."

"That's precisely why you deserve it, then."

"Okay," she said quietly. "I guess I'll see you the day after tomorrow."

"At seven," he confirmed.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip for a split second before leaning in quickly to kiss him on the cheek. She heard him take a small intake of breath as her lips brushed his face and smiled as she retreated back to her seat, "I'll see you then," she said with more confidence, her smile widening when she saw him nod and look flummoxed by her gesture.

"You certainly will," he said gently after a moment. He took a breath as she opened the door beside her, "Merry Christmas, Teresa," he smiled.

She stooped to look back at him just before she closed the door. "You too, Patrick."

As he started up the engine again he viewed himself in the rear-view mirror, a soppy grin plastered across his face. He had no idea what the future might hold with this woman but he knew he had to take a chance and find out. Hopeful excitement coursed through his veins for the first time in years. "My mother will never let me hear the end of this," he said to himself with a chuckle.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, in response to quite a few of you asking me to add a few more chapters to this one here you go. Don't worry for those who know my propensity for writing long multichapters. I assure you this one won't be. I'm guessing no more than ten chapters, probably fewer. It's pretty fluff filled so should keep all you fluff addicts happy. There will be a little angst too but sweet more than painful in the most. Hope you enjoy the second chapter. Thank you.**

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Chapter 2 – First Date

Her blonde pigtails shook from side to side, a pout on her face. She shoved her hands into her front jean pockets as she stared at him.

He nodded seriously as he sat at the end of his bed facing her. "You don't like the colour?" he asked, pressing his fingers down his silver satin tie.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at her father as she stood opposite him. She moved further between his legs and began to untie the knot in his tie, her small fingers working furiously to loosen it. He grinned at her and started to quicken the process along by helping. "That's the third tie you've made me change, young lady. Now, the next one you pick I'm wearing it whether you like it or not afterwards."

She moved back a step and raised a mocking eyebrow at him. Even at five years old she knew she had him wrapped around her finger. "No tie, daddy," she told him.

"No tie, eh? But I told you I was going out for a special dinner."

She shrugged, climbed up into his lap and began to play with the doll in her hands. He held her tight and kissed the top of her head, rocking her gently. "Who with?" she asked as she moved the arms on the doll up and down.

He stammered, "A-A new friend, I told you that already."

"Is it a lady?"

He bit the inside of cheek. "Uh, yes, it is as a matter of fact. How'd you figure that out?"

"You're wearing a suit. And you smell different. Nicer."

He laughed. The expensive cologne he'd put on especially was obviously a good choice.

She looked up at him, her big brown eyes the same colour as her mother's peering into his greens. "What's her name?"

He blinked twice, caught by the likeness to his late wife more and more the older she got. "Teresa."

She nodded slowly then shrugged, settling in his arms again and playing with the dress on the doll. "That's a nice name. I think I'll name her that."

He smiled at the brown haired doll in his daughter's hands, one of her many Christmas presents. "Yes, it is a nice name, isn't it? I think it'll suit her," he agreed. Although the pink dress that adorned the plastic creature in her fingers he never imagined his Teresa wearing. _His_ Teresa? Was she? Would she be? A nervous breath escaped him and he got up from the bed, taking his daughter with him. He swung her around quickly like an aeroplane and she giggled in response. "Again!" she screamed. He laughed at her most favourite word lately and he made another circle with her before placing her standing on the carpet, holding onto her arms for a moment in case she was dizzy. Before she asked for another spin he said to her with a smile, "Go check on grandma, Charlie, make sure she's not on the cooking sherry as she's looking after you tonight. I'll be down in a minute."

Charlotte, used to his jokes about his mother by now, began to giggle again, pleased to have been given a part in the joke. He heard her bolt down the stairs like a tiny elephant. Her voice faded as she called out to Alison Jane beneath him, "Grandma, are you drinking sherry? Dad says..."

He chuckled and gathered up the ties strewn on the bed and placed them in a drawer in his dresser. He looked at himself in a long mirror beside it. He smoothed down the jacket of the navy three piece suit he wore with matching white shirt. He opened the first two buttons of his shirt then ran his fingers through his blond curls at the front so they settled off his forehead. He shrugged his shoulders. It was the best he could do. He thought again of the woman he'd met two nights prior on Christmas Eve, those piercing green eyes of hers and those adorable dimples, meeting her the best Christmas present he'd received in years. His stomach flip flopped at the thought of seeing her again.

He arrived downstairs and his mother shook her head at him for his earlier comment but with a wry smile on her face. Charlotte was drawing something on a large piece of paper on the coffee table in the living room, a Disney film on the television long forgotten as she concentrated. His daughter took after him in that regard, single minded when she had her mind set on something. Currently it appeared to be a drawing of her new doll in crayons.

"All set?" Alison said with a smile. "You scrub up well, Patrick, even if I do say so myself."

"Thank you, mother. Though why you're taking the credit for it I don't know," he laughed.

"My genes, of course." She held up a finger and dived towards a bag in the corner of the living room and handed it him. "Speaking of genes...I washed and ironed Teresa's jeans for her."

He rolled his eyes. "Most men give women flowers on a..." he quietened his tone to a whisper as he glanced at his daughter, "...date. Not clothing, mom."

"Oh hush, I'm sure she'll be glad to get them back. And they're from me, not you. But I hope you are planning on collecting flowers for her. Make a nice impression on her. I like this one and so do you."

He smirked, "I've already made a nice impression hence the reason I'm seeing her tonight."

"Well, make sure you don't screw it up, then."

* * *

He knocked twice on her front door and cleared his throat as butterflies buzzed in his stomach. He saw the peephole darken and he rolled on the balls of his feet, plastering a confident smile on his face. She opened the door with a smile and he blinked at the vision in front of him. She wore a sleek black knee length sleeveless dress and three inch heels, her hair softly curled in a way that looked completely natural. Her dress was modest but had a slight V cut into the front his eyes were drawn to.

"Hi," he smiled, raising his eyes back to her face again. "Wow, you look incredible."

She grinned at him and tilted her head to the side, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth as she assessed him in turn. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He laughed softly, a flush coming to his cheeks. "Ah, these are for you." He handed her a small bouquet of multicoloured blooms.

"They're beautiful, thank you," she said. "Can't remember the last time someone bought me flowers. " She motioned inside, "Come in, I'll put these in water and we can get going."

He followed her inside and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets as he began to pace around the living room. Beige tones and a comfortable couch at one end, some shelving near the door. He noticed a few cardboard boxes at the front door. "You just move in?" he called to her in the kitchen beyond the living room.

She came out with a vase for the flowers and shot him a sheepish look as she looked at the boxes. "Been here a couple of years. I...I know, I still have some unpacking to do."

He chuckled. "Pretty sure you could give whatever's in there to goodwill if you haven't needed any of it in a couple of years."

She laughed in turn. "Yeah, I know. I'll get around to it one of these days."

"Job keeps you pretty busy, then?"

She half shrugged as she placed the flowers in the vase. "You could say that."

He beamed a smile at her. "Well, then I'm glad you were able to tear yourself away from it tonight for our date."

She gathered up her purse. "I wouldn't have missed it," she smiled, a trace of seduction in it that made his heart rate pick up pace.

* * *

They dined on the terrace of an Italian restaurant decked out with twinkling fairy lights. "So, tell me more about yourself," Jane said, more at ease after a few sips of Rioja.

"What would you like to know?"

"Something I don't know about you already, obviously."

She laughed softly. "And how do I know what you don't know?"

"Well," he said, leaning back in his chair, "you were born in Chicago, you have three younger brothers, both your parents are dead-"

"How do you know all of that? Did you...did you run a background check on me?" she asked with a horrified expression.

He chuckled. "Of course not. And I see from your expression you didn't run one on me either. I wondered if you might since you're a cop. And so suspicious by nature."

"Maybe I should have," she pouted with an eye roll. "So then how do you know about my family?"

"Your accent is Chicago, obviously. And you let me into your condo, remember? I noticed the photographs of your brothers and...that cross you wear, it's your mother's, right? There were no recent photographs of your parents so I presume they passed away when you were quite young. I could go on but I see I'm freaking you out."

"Jesus, I could use you on my team with observation skills like that," she said with wide eyes before taking a long sip of wine. "If you hadn't told me how you did that I'd have thought you were psychic or something."

He smiled and laughed softly. "No such things as psychics. I should know, used to pretend to be one."

She drew her head back then laughed. "Really? Seriously? You were one of those guys who pretend to have visions and have spirit guides?"

"Meh, never went down the spirit guide route myself. My ego was too large even to share it with an imaginary creature in those days."

Though he was joking she noticed some melancholy and regret in his voice. More seriously she asked him softly, "Why'd you stop? I get the impression you were pretty good at it."

He shrugged and bit his bottom lip. "A story for another time if you don't mind."

"You said that to me the other evening, too."

When she saw his look of discomfort she shook her head, "It's okay. I understand. Some stuff is...hard to talk about. No rush."

He smiled, "Thank you."

Conversation moved on to Christmas, literature, music, films, theatre, and even a little theological discussion as the night passed, interspersed with stories of her brothers' exploits as children and his mother's exploits currently. They eased from one topic to another and barely noticed two hours go by.

As their dinner plates were cleared away he said, "I've had a lovely evening with you, Teresa Lisbon."

She smiled shyly at him. "Me too, Patrick Jane."

He licked his lips. "You want to get dessert here or...well, I know a place where they make great ice cream sundaes?"

She grinned, "I love ice cream."

* * *

He let them into his closed diner and placed his hand on her lower back to steer her towards the kitchen. "Why are you closed tonight?" she asked as he switched the lights on.

He frowned at her. "Ah, I was out with you, remember?"

"You didn't get someone to cover for you?" she asked incredulously.

"Nah, not worth the hassle, easier to close up."

She gaped at him as he took some ice cream out of the freezer. "This place really is some sort of hobby for you, isn't it?"

He dazzled a smile at her. "You could be flattered that I closed my business this evening in order to go out with you."

"No! I-I am-"

He laughed, "It's okay, Teresa. You're worried I have no direction in my life."

She shrugged, "Well-"

"I just have more important things than work to think about."

"Like what?"

He hadn't told her he had a daughter yet. Part of him had hoped she had run a background check on him so the decision about what to tell her and not tell her would be out of his hands. He liked this woman. Would she want to know him if she knew he had a daughter in tow? Would it be too much baggage? And even if she knew that then it would open up questions about his past...his wife...Maybe he needed to approach this more carefully for now. He replied with a wave of his hand, "Oh, you know, surfing, bike riding, the finer things in life."

He smiled at her again, saw her eyes questioning him, her cop instincts tuning into some kind of deception. To distract her he produced two sundae glasses and heaped ice cream into them quickly, waving his hands about theatrically as he put on a show of putting the sundaes together, pouring the chocolate sauce steadily from a great height and adding in a sleight of hand trick into the performance as he rained nuts on them out of nowhere before finally placing cherries on top. "Et voila! Best sundaes in Sacramento."

She laughed at his giddy excitement and replied, "Well, I'll be the judge of that." She dipped her sundae spoon into the ice cream and tried to keep her face straight. "It's okay."

He grinned. "You can't hide the truth from me, Teresa. Admit it."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay," she giggled, "this ice cream is amazing. Where'd you get it?"

"I make it myself." He dived into his own sundae though his eyes were transfixed on watching her lick ice cream from her lips as she continued to eat hers. It was a new experience to be jealous of a frozen food.

He must have kept his eyes on her a fraction too long as she noticed his stare from the corner of her eyes as they leaned on the counter side by side. She smiled knowingly at him and he swallowed, his eyes darting back to the inside of his glass.

"Are you sure you don't date much?" she asked him with some amusement.

He cleared his throat. "Why do you ask?"

She nudged his elbow gently with hers. "Because you seem to be doing a pretty good job of it tonight."

He looked over at her. "Am I?" he said softly with a glance at her lips.

"Yeah, you are," she said, mirroring his gesture and tone.

"Well..." he explained as he took a breath, "the talking part of the date is the easy part, you see. I mean...I do that every day, after all. Have conversations with new people. We all do. But..." his eyes strayed to her lips again briefly, "the latter part of the date...well, the part, I suppose, where the date really becomes a date-"

"Patrick?"

He was aware he'd been babbling and sighed, "Yes?"

"Sometimes you talk too much."

She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes closed instinctively and he pressed his lips back against hers in response. Ice creams forgotten they turned towards each other and kissed again as she pressed herself flush against him and put her hands on his sides. He wound his arms around her back, surprising himself by tentatively deepening the kiss and drawing her closer into his arms. She gasped a moan that sent shivers up his spine and he plunged his tongue into her mouth accordingly, groaning as he invaded the sweet hot wetness he found there. She moved her hands up his chest and then angled his mouth closer still as she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled his face towards hers. Their tongues danced rhythmically for seconds until the need for air drew them apart. They breathed heavily, eyes wide and dark. "That really is a hell of an ice cream you make," she said with a smile.

He laughed and licked his lips. "Damn straight it is."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Hesitation

As he drove her home they glanced at each other every now and then with an array of exchanges of small smiles and blushes. He pulled up his car in her driveway and she turned around in her seat as she unfastened her seatbelt. "Want to come in...uh...for tea?"

He looked over at her, this beautiful and sexy woman, all soft curves, smart, funny and utterly beguiling in his eyes. A woman who'd awakened an appetite he never imagined feeding ever again. A blind man could read her intentions with the shy seductiveness in her tone.

"How about I just walk you to your door tonight?" he smiled. He wasn't ready to have sex with her. Well, that wasn't entirely true, certain parts of his anatomy were more than willing - eager, in fact - but mentally he wasn't there. She had no idea who he really was yet, never mind breaking the news to her about Charlotte. He'd been careful to show her only the charming side to his nature. Although, if all he'd wanted was a one night stand, he doubted he'd have been able to resist the temptation of the invitation.

"Wow, such a gentleman," she said with a shrug and a smile.

"Not always," he smirked.

As they reached her door he kissed her again, slowly and tenderly. It was even better than the first time with the gentle breeze in the air that ruffled her chestnut waves pleasingly and the receptiveness he received. It was unhurried and sweet and without the pressure of it being their first kiss. She melted into it, seemingly aware she needed to allow him to set the pace. For now. He somehow doubted she was normally this patient in everyday life. He supposed they were both showing only their best sides (or what they imagined their best sides were to people who had just met) on this date too.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said softly as he withdrew his lips.

"I look forward to it," she smiled.

* * *

Throwing his keys into the bowl by the front door he closed it behind him. He walked down the corridor and chuckled quietly as he saw his mother asleep in the leather armchair by the fireplace with a crossword puzzle in her lap and her mouth gaping open as she snored in a rhythmic monotone.

Without waking her he went into the kitchen to boil the kettle then made his way up the stairs to his daughter's bedroom. He opened the door carefully, the star nightlight beside her bed casting her face in a golden hue. He walked inside and knelt beside the bed, brushing her fair hair away from her forehead to plant a gentle kiss. She stirred slightly, cuddling Henry the white rabbit, her favourite stuffed animal currently, tighter to her chest. She was such a beautiful gift in his life. Still sometimes he thought he didn't deserve to have been given the chance to be her father after how their relationship had begun.

The first weeks of her life had been like living in a never ending nightmare. Grief stricken at the loss of his wife through childbirth, he'd abandoned Charlotte, barely looking at the helpless infant in the crib as she'd wailed incessantly. She was too much of a reminder of the woman he'd lost and he'd blamed her death on the baby at first. The life he had meticulously planned for his family came tumbling down around him. The joyous expectation of being a father was terminated sharply when he knew Angela would not take her place beside him as a mother.

He shifted the blame onto himself, of the choices he'd made, of the people he'd swindled as a psychic. He'd never believed in karma until that day but it was hard not to see Angela's death as a way of balancing the scales of justice again. He'd relied on nurses and then hired a nanny to take care of Charlotte, hardly touching or holding her as he wallowed in self pity, afraid he'd taint his daughter with the darkness inside him if he did.

Only the unexpected return of his mother into his life had brought him to his senses to appreciate what he had gained and not what he had lost the day Angela died. With the assistance of her dogged nature, he'd decided he could make the changes necessary to live his life differently. To become worthy of being a father and to honour his wife in being the best one he could be.

He would always feel guilty for those first weeks though, of not cherishing her from the very instant she was born. He supposed that's why he spoilt her sometimes now, why he'd focused every moment on her happiness since as he tried to make amends.

* * *

He arrived back in the living room again to just hear the kettle whistle in the kitchen beside it. His mother snorted a final snore as she woke up with a start. "Tea, mom?" he shouted through to her.

Sleepily she opened her eyes. "Patrick? Is that you home?"

He shook his head with a smile as he lifted two cups from a rack. "No, it's the secret twin of mine you never told me about." As he poured in the boiled water, he added, "Just as well I'm not a burglar, they would have cleared us out. You can sleep through a hurricane, I swear."

"It's because I have a clear conscience!" she called back to him. He knew that wasn't altogether true but she'd more than made up for any lapses of judgement she perceived she'd made in his life since her return into it.

He carried the cups back to the living room to see her sitting straight up in the armchair waiting for him, her eyes searching him for an answer to how his date went. Handing her a cup he raised an eyebrow at her. "How was Charlie? I see she went to sleep in those princess pyjamas. Were you the wicked queen again?" he smiled.

She rolled her eyes. "Only because you made me play that part that one time, now she loves casting those spells on me and I have to act like the dying swan. Must have died ten times tonight, my back's killing me. But never mind that, she was an angel, as usual. How'd it go with Teresa?" she asked eagerly.

He shrugged with a blank expression and picked up the crossword puzzle from the coffee table next to him. "Fine. Eleven across is COASTERS – ships taking care of flowers – CO and ASTERS, you see. Four down is-"

Impatiently, "Stop finishing my puzzles just to show me how clever you are. Now, come on, out with it, Patrick."

He flung the book back on the table again and took a sip of tea. "I'm not going to get any peace until I do, am I? Okay, it went well. She's nice. Very nice, just like you said."

A huge smile broke out on his mother's face. "I knew it! I knew you'd hit it off." Then she saw his face fall in response. "What happened? She didn't like you? What did you do?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why is everything my fault?"

"Because, like you said, Teresa's a lovely girl-"

"I think they actually prefer the term women nowadays. But yes, she is." He shrugged and pursed his lips, his eyes finding a picture of his late wife on the shelf beside the television. "But..."

His mother followed his eyes with her own. "Angela wouldn't want you to be alone forever, son," she said gently.

He smiled wistfully at the photograph. "How do you know? You never even met her."

"But I know you. At least, I know who you are now. And you'd never have given your heart to someone who didn't want the best for you and for you to find someone else if she wasn't here."

He looked down, swallowed slightly. The euphoric evening he'd had came crashing down on him as guilt rushed through him. It had been so easy to have fun with her, to flirt with her...to kiss her. It'd felt right, fantastic even. But had the whole night just been an act for him he hadn't even realised he'd been playing? A distraction from his everyday life, his everyday responsibilities? It took him all of a second to dismiss those theories. In many ways it would have been easier if he couldn't.

"You really like her, don't you?" his mother asked, leaning forward to catch his eyes.

He kept them downcast, his voice despondent, "I think I might. How'd you figure it out?"

She laughed softly. "Because I've seen you when you've come back from those other two dates I made you go on."

He raised a reproachful eye at her. "I haven't forgiven you for setting me up with that performance artist yet, by the way. Had to sit through an evening of watching her pretend to fight the devil, for chrissakes. And it was a one woman show." He shivered at the thought of it though it brought a small smile to his lips as he relived one of the most ridiculous and bizarre experiences of his entire life. And for a carny kid, that was saying something.

Sheepishly, "Well, I admit I might have been a little off with that one. She seemed perfectly sensible when I met her at the store." She cleared her throat. "But the point I'm making, Patrick, is that when you came back from those dates you were happy."

"Happy? They were disastrous."

"Precisely. You were delighted they were. Meant you didn't have to think about what you're thinking about now with Teresa. A future with someone. A real relationship again. Someone who might just make you happy again."

"I am happy. I have Charlotte...you-"

"It's not the same though, is it? And Charlotte will grow up, move out and...well, I'm not getting any younger."

"Oh, please, you'll live until you're one hundred."

She laughed. "Hopefully. But I'd rather see you settled with someone before I get to that age."

He exhaled loudly. "But...I don't know if I'm ready."

"It's been five years, son," she said softly. "It's time. At least it is when you meet someone special. You really want her to slip through your fingers because you're afraid?"

He nodded slowly and leaned back on the couch with a long puff of breath. "This discussion might all be pointless anyway," he suggested. "I haven't even told her about Charlotte yet...or Angela."

Alison drew her head back. "Why on earth not?"

He shrugged, "Never came up."

"Well, of course it didn't if you didn't bring it up. Why didn't you?"

"I don't know. It was...easier not to, I guess." He leaned forward, interlinking his fingers together. He spoke louder, more passionately, "It's not just that. Teresa's a career woman, mom. Her whole life is her job. Sure, she tried to hide tonight how important it is to her but I could see through her trying not to act so 'copish' around me. She hasn't even had time to unpack boxes two years old so what time would she have for me, never mind find out I have a daughter? I don't even know if she likes kids or sees them in her future, I certainly don't see her as the kind of woman who's even thinking about marriage or having a family of her own at the moment, never mind inherit a ready made one. And what if Charlotte resents her-"

"Jesus Christ, Patrick, slow down!" his mother interrupted as she gaped at him. "Son, life and relationships aren't a chess game. You don't need to always think twenty moves ahead." She shook her head at him and took a breath. "One step at a time. Now, do you like her?"

He rolled his eyes at being treated like a child but answered anyway, "You know I do."

"Did you make plans to see her again?"

He shrugged, "I told her I'd call her tomorrow."

"Good. Then do that. Meet her, tell her about Charlotte and take it from there. See what her response is."

Begrudgingly, "I guess I could do that."

* * *

Cho stared at the series of photographs of the dead body pinned to the whiteboard in front of him, a line between his eyes and his hands on his hips. "Still no I.D.?" he said to Van Pelt who was typing on her keyboard.

"No hits in AFIS," she confirmed. "Lab still running the DNA. I have a rush on it. John Doe for now."

"Hmm. Guess we'll have to wait, then."

"He's a tennis player, if that helps. Most probably works as a pro at a Country Club near the area he was found," a man's voice said behind him.

Cho turned around to find Patrick Jane closely studying the board beside him. He folded his arms and looked him up and down. "Who are you?"

Jane beamed a smile at him and outstretched his hand. "Patrick Jane, pleasure to meet you...Agent...?"

Cho's folded arms remained in place. "What do you want?"

Jane narrowed his eyes slightly at the other man before he smiled at him again. "Apart from helping you solve your problem with identification here, you mean?"

Van Pelt interrupted, "Why do you say he's a tennis player?"

Jane grinned at her, "Ah! An inquisitive mind! Very good question, Agent...?"

"Van Pelt," she smiled, getting out of her chair to shake Jane's hand. "Nice to meet you." He pointed to the second photograph on the board. "He's late thirties, fit and toned but not a muscle head. And you see here, the tan lines on his lower arms, classic tell for someone out in the sun all day."

"Could be a gardener if that's the case," Cho said. "Or a hundred other outdoor professions."

"Well, if it were just that in itself, then yes, I would agree. But his left arm is noticeably larger than the other so he plays a sport where one arm is dominant. Add that to the tan lines and the..." He peered at the third photograph more closely, "...yes! Callouses on two of the fingers of his left hand then it screams tennis player. And he wears an expensive watch, too expensive for him to purchase himself from the medium range store he shops for his clothes at so probably a gift from a wife he's giving lessons to at a Country Club. Though...with that price of watch...I doubt tennis lessons is all he's giving her, if you catch my drift."

He grinned at Cho and Van Pelt. "Et voila! Quite simple, really."

"Wow, that's...that's impressive," Van Pelt said.

Jane shrugged with a smile. "Happy to help."

Cho said to Van Pelt, "Check out Country Clubs in the area. See if they're missing a tennis pro." As she grinned at Jane and went back to her desk, he cast a suspicious eye over Jane again, taking note of his casual white shirt and khaki pants. "Who the hell are you?"

"Patrick?" A woman's voice sounded behind them. Jane turned around and smiled at Lisbon who looked like a rabbit caught in headlights and brought the manila folders she was carrying closer to her chest. She took a step closer towards him and whispered quietly, "What...what are you doing here?"

He held up a brown paper bag. "Brought you lunch." His smile grew as did her embarrassment at seeing him in her place of work. "I see you're not a fan of the casual pop in, though."

She watched as Cho and Van Pelt made their eavesdropping evident and her blush grew. "Um...come on through to my office," she said to Jane, nodding to a door near them.

Once inside he laughed softly as he placed the brown paper bag on her desk. "Wow, you really do believe in a separation of powers, don't you? You don't like your worlds colliding much, do you?"

She placed her folders beside the bag and shot him an eyeroll. "You said you'd call...you could have...prepared me."

He shrugged, "Was a spur of the moment decision." He brushed his fingers over hers as they stood face to face. "Well, that's not entirely true. I gave four people what they ordered this morning because I was too busy thinking about you."

She smiled and troubled her bottom lip. "Really? Wow, you better watch out. You might have an actual business on your hands to run with respectable behaviour like that."

He saw her cast a sideways glance to the blinds beside her and his smile brightened. "It's a pickle, isn't it?"

"What is?" she frowned.

"If you decide to close the blinds then your team out there will think we're kissing. If you leave them open then they'll see us kissing. It's quite the conundrum."

"Well, we could just leave them open and not kiss each other at all."

"No, that's not happening," he said confidently.

She laughed. "Oh? So I don't get a say in the matter, huh?"

"Well..."

At that moment the door opened with a tap and Lisbon jumped back from Jane accordingly, her startled response only succeeding in making him chuckle. To her surprise Cho spoke to Jane and not to her. "Your lead panned out. Tennis pro from Alveta Country Club never showed up for work." He paused. Awkwardly, "Ah...thanks for your help." He focused on Lisbon again. "Boss, okay if me and Van Pelt check it out?"

Lisbon frowned at Cho and then at Jane who was smiling broadly at her. "You're welcome," he smirked.

Still frowning she turned her head towards the door. "Ah...yeah...Cho...um...check it out."

When her second in charge shut the door behind him, she shook her head at Jane. "What the hell was all that about?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Teasing & Truthtelling

"Just helping you out," Jane smirked upon seeing Lisbon's shocked but curious expression.

"You gave my team a lead," she said with a shake of her head. "Just how long were you waiting out there for me?"

He smiled enigmatically. "So, your agent...Cho...is that what you called him...he is what you'd call an inscrutable fellow."

"That's one way of putting it," she replied with a smirk. "What lead did you give him?"

"Your John Doe, told them where he worked by the sound of it."

She drew her head back in a question. "Are you applying for a job here or something?"

He smiled. "Are you offering me one? Trying to instil some of that work ethic of yours into me again?"

"Just sounds like you're cut out for detective work by the sound of it."

He laughed. "Ah, no. I doubt police work is in my future."

She teased seductively, "Oh? Is that your psychic powers at work again? Thought they were on the fritz these days."

He matched her smile and moved a step closer, his tone lower and his eyes darkened. He ignored her question. "So, if I did come to work here, would I have to call you _boss_ too, Agent Lisbon?"

She raised an eyebrow then laughed softly. "Oh, you'd like that part, would you?"

He grinned and tilted his head to the side. "Well, I have to admit the authoritarian look does suit you."

Warming up to the flirting, "Not if you're on the wrong side of it, believe me."

"Of that I have no doubt. Let's hope I never am."

She edged closer, their fronts practically touching. "Somehow I doubt that'll happen."

He smiled, ghosted his fingers over her right side, out of view of the bullpen outside. "Oh? You think I'm trouble?"

"I know you're trouble," she whispered, more and more entranced by the heat in his gaze.

He brushed his lips against her cheek softly and lingered them there, then heard a satisfying intake of breath in response.

"I think the exact same thing about you," he whispered as he drew his mouth across to her ear slowly.

It had gone from zero to one hundred in seconds as the air sizzled between them. Only the sound of a file crashing to the floor outside made her pull back from him, swallowing hard. She didn't want to imagine what they'd be doing right now if she hadn't heard it. But somehow she doubted she'd ever look at her burgundy couch again in the same way. It relieved her that he appeared similarly affected, his tanned face taking on a more rosy glow as he fought to regain control of himself.

"Uh...thanks for bringing me lunch," she said, walking around to the safer location on the other side of her desk. "You really shouldn't have."

He shrugged, shoved his hands into his pants. "My pleasure."

"So...was there anything else you wanted in particular?-"

He raised an eyebrow then grinned at her renewed blush as she looked back to her desk and straightened up a stapler and some pens. She licked her lips and stammered, "It's just that I...I have three open cases-"

"Of course. I know you're busy." Now it was his turn to become tongue tied. "I...um...I...wondered if you were free tonight, though." When he saw her frown, he added, "I know we just saw each last night and well that we've seen each other already today too but...but there's something I really need to tell you before...well, before things go any further between us."

"Sounds serious. Can't you tell me now?"

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and she spent the next thirty seconds discussing a case with one of her team members.

"Sorry," she said as the door closed again, leaving them alone once more. "So, this thing?"

"You're working and it's not something I want to get into here. I'd prefer no distractions. Maybe another night if tonight doesn't suit but I'd prefer to tell you sooner rather than later."

She furrowed her brow. "It's that important?"

"It is," he nodded, a nervous edge to his tone.

"Okay...uh..." She frowned further, deepening her brow crinkle.

"How about I pop by your place after work, just for ten minutes or so?"

"I probably won't leave here until nine, I'm afraid. Too late?"

"No, that's fine. Say I call round to your place around ten? Does that work?" Inwardly he reckoned it would suit him better, he could put Charlotte to bed and get a sitter before he left. It also meant he wasn't away from his daughter two evenings in a row.

"Yeah, I...I guess so. Patrick, is...is everything okay? You're not in any trouble, are you?"

He smiled effortlessly. "No more than usual." He moved quickly, pecking her lips before she even realised he was beside her. "I'll see you tonight, Teresa."

* * *

She'd changed into black yoga pants and a matching tank top after she'd had a quick shower after coming home. The doorbell sounded at ten pm on the dot and she ran down the stairs barefoot, her hair still damp.

She opened the door and watched him appraise her casual attire and devoid of makeup. A smile whispered across his lips until it became a grin. He said nothing but made it quite obvious there was no need and her stomach pleasantly flip flopped at the unbidden compliment.

"Come in," she smiled. "Sorry, got home a little later than I hoped-"

She was caught off guard by his lips touching hers. She hummed accordingly and closed the door with her foot as she reciprocated. He tasted like tea and lemon cake and as his tongue savoured hers she pushed him back towards the door again, trailing her fingers up his chest. As their breathing and moans increased as they continued to kiss, he broke off suddenly and let go of a breath. He stuttered, "Okay, we...we should talk now, I think. Before...before..."

She kept him pinned to the door, enjoying the power she held over him. "Before you're no longer capable of it, you mean?" she giggled.

"Before talking is the last thing on my mind," he laughed before pecking her lips quickly and gently moving her away from him by her upper arms.

"Okay," she smiled. "So, what's so important it couldn't wait?"

He nodded towards her couch. "Let's sit, shall we?"

She frowned at the sudden seriousness in his tone, the way he was fidgeting with his hands. Whatever this was, it wasn't good. "Patrick?"

When they were seated on the couch he bit the inside of his cheek and took a deep breath. "Okay...here we go." He exhaled again and then turned to face her.

"Oh god, I know what it is," she gasped, her eyes fleeting to his left hand ring finger. She had just watched his right hand fingers brush over it, time and again as he sat down. She knew a tell when she saw one. She jumped back up off the couch again. "You son of a bitch. Get the hell out!"

He frowned, dumbfounded. "What?! I haven't even said anything yet!"

She crossed her arms across her chest. "You didn't have to. I'm a detective, remember? You're married for chrissakes, aren't you?!" She began to pace up and down in front of him, talking to herself. "I should have known it was too good to be true. Should have known there'd have to be a catch somewhere. Why the hell else would you be interested in someone like me? That...charm...that damn smile...that...hair-"

His laugh cut her off mid rant and she turned to glare at him. Then she blushed, her anger had almost made her forgotten she'd been talking out loud.

"Sorry," he smiled. "Please continue...you were just commenting on my hair, I believe. I don't think I've ever been both insulted and complimented in the same sentence before so please do go on."

She went on the defensive. "You think this is funny?!"

He shrugged. "A little, yes. Wow, you weren't kidding when you said getting on the wrong side of you was frightening." He laughed again. "You're quite the pocket rocket when you get going."

"Get out!" she reiterated. "Or you'll see the damage this pocket rocket can do to your face!"

He patted the cushion beside him and took a deep breath. The humour in his tone was replaced by calmness. "No. Not until you allow me to explain."

She puffed out a breath to calm herself down. Defeated, "There's nothing to explain-"

"I'm not married, Teresa."

She blinked twice and narrowed her eyes at him. "I saw what you did. You can't keep your fingers away from your wedding band finger. I play a lot of poker, I know a tell when I see one. And I know guilt when I see it too. And when you looked at me when we sat down it was written all across your face, Patrick. Don't treat me like a fool."

"If you were a fool I'd never be interested in getting to know you better. But okay, I can see how you might have been misled." He took a breath. "The truth is that I'm not married any longer but that I was married once," he said.

She relaxed her arms over her chest and shrugged. "So, you're divorced? That's it? That's...unfortunate but why make such a big deal about telling me something like that? People break up all the time nowadays."

He swallowed and licked his lips. "No, I'm not divorced."

She frowned and then the realisation hit her. "Oh god," she said quietly, brlefly closing her eyes.

He nodded and intertwined his fingers together on his knees. "Yeah," he whispered, "that."

Silently she took a seat next to him again. "I'm such an idiot."

He smiled softly at her. "Actually, you took some of the tension out of telling you so your outburst helped."

"You must think I'm crazy for reacting like that," she said with an eye roll.

"Passionate," he smiled. "A quality I admire, as it happens. And it showed me that it isn't just me that thinks this might become something serious."

She smiled shyly at him. "What happened to her? When did she..."

"Five years ago."

She took in the information. "When you said you didn't date much that really was true, wasn't it?"

He nodded.

"Five years, though?" She breathed out slowly. _And he'd chosen her to date after all that time alone?_

"I dated a little but never found anyone I really liked until...well, until now," he shrugged. He smiled at her increasingly anxious expression. "There's no pressure for you to feel the same way, you know. Not yet. Just...just treat me like anyone else you date. Okay?"

Well, that was something but...treat him like anyone else? That wasn't going to work with his man. Anyone else she'd have bedded and dumped by now if her recent history with men was anything to go by. Her career was the love of her life, she'd made that choice years ago. But Patrick Jane had made her hope for something more, lit a spark in her for it out of nowhere.

"But there is one more thing before you decide if you want us to continue this or not," he said, becoming nervous again.

She nodded for him to continue, still quite speechless from his first piece of news.

He swallowed. "I have a daughter."

Lisbon opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. "A-A daughter?"

He nodded, watching her every reaction.

"Okay," she said. "Okay. Just one?" She had no idea why she asked that question but felt the need to fill the silence to stop her brain trying to comprehend the second piece of surprising news in seconds.

"Yeah, just one."

"What age is she?"

"Five."

She frowned. "But you said your wife died-"

"She died shortly after Charlotte was born," he said quickly, looking at his hands.

"Oh god, Patrick, I'm so sorry-"

"Thank you but there's no need," he said, looking back up at her again with a look that told her not to push him further on the matter. She got the feeling he hated pity of any sort as much as she did.

She focused instead on the daughter he'd mentioned. "Charlotte? That's...that's a nice name. Do you have a photograph of her?"

He seemed surprised by the question but fished out his wallet and passed the one he held in there over to her. It was taken at her last birthday party, a photograph of a blonde girl in pigtails blowing out candles on a cake.

"She's beautiful," Lisbon remarked softly as she looked at the picture.

He grinned. "Yes, she is. But I'm incredibly biased on the matter, of course."

Lisbon smiled widely at him and passed the photograph back. Then her smile was replaced with a small look of reproach. "Why didn't you tell me about her sooner?"

He put the photo away again with a shrug. "I guess I was afraid-"

"That it would make a difference. Same as why I didn't want you to know I was a cop to begin with."

He glanced back at her. "Exactly."

"But you never mentioned her at dinner. You should have told me about her then, Patrick."

Another shrug. "Yes, my mother told me the same thing."

"Wise woman."

"Apparently." As they continued to stare at each other, he asked quietly, "So, does it make a difference? If it does, I understand."

A beat passed. "Actually, I'm more upset you kept the truth from me than the fact you have a daughter."

He frowned at that comment then followed it with a nod. "Fair enough. The truth's important to you, I understand. I'll adapt my behaviour accordingly."

She raised an eyebrow. "You'll adapt to telling the truth? Makes me wonder if that's not your default position anyway."

He made a discontented sound. "I haven't lied to you, Teresa. Just...omitted some things in hindsight I should've told you about." He chanced a charming smile. "See? I'm not quite the perfect specimen you thought I was."

She rolled her eyes. "Apparently not," she smirked. "It's a bit of a relief, to be honest."

He grinned. "So, does all this mean you're willing to give me a chance? Give us a chance at seeing where this goes? And, just so you know, I'm just as afraid as you are in even saying those words out loud."

She leaned in and kissed him softly. "We'll never know if we don't try, right? So, yes, I guess it does."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Sharing

Lisbon carried two mugs into her living room. Jane was on her couch, his eyes transfixed on a page in front of him from a file set on her coffee table. She placed his tea down beside the manila folder and he looked up with a soft smile. "Thank you."

She sat down beside him and blew on her hot chocolate after pulling her legs up under her and leaning back on her couch. She glared good naturedly at him, "When are you going to stop stealing files from my bag as soon as my back is turned?"

He smiled without looking at her. "Hardly stealing, I'm assisting you in your hard fought quest for justice, my dear."

She giggled, "I see. So you've decided you're the Robin to my Batman now, have you?"

He chuckled in response. "Not sure I have the legs for that particular outfit. Although I wouldn't mind seeing you in a Catwoman costume while we're on the topic." He paused and looked into space across the table as he blatantly imagined the vision before turning around, grinning both salaciously and hopefully at her.

She kicked his thigh with her foot lightly. "Nice try, boy wonder. No chance."

He shrugged with one shoulder. "Can't beat a man for trying. Anyway, since you wouldn't let me help with the dinner dishes I thought I'd help you with this case instead."

He kissed her quickly, pulling her legs onto his lap in one swift motion. He went back to reading the file again as he started to rub her feet. It had taken him a week to learn that she loved nothing more than a relaxing foot rub after a long day of pounding pavements. Her stubborn and independent nature had meant it had taken him two further weeks to entice her to allow him to do so.

"You're not even supposed to be reading that," she said as she stifled a moan of delight as he ran his thumbs pleasingly across the arch of her right foot, her slight gasp of approval delivering her reprimand with a lot less conviction than what was intended. She cleared her throat, tried again. "Those files are confidential for CBI personnel only."

His tone was filled with slightly obnoxious amusement. "Hmm. I know. You've told me that before." He tapped his temple. "Memory palace, remember? And I won't tell anyone if you don't."

She rolled her eyes and took a mouthful of her hot chocolate as he picked up his tea and sipped it before his fingers resumed their massage on the ball of her foot, finally earning him a hum of approval from his companion as she succumbed to enjoy his tender ministrations.

In the four weeks they'd been dating they'd relaxed into an easy routine when together. Lisbon's long hours and Jane's commitment to Charlotte meant they hadn't been able to see each other more than twice a week although she went to the diner for lunch if she was having a rare quiet day at work or he'd drop by her office with a sandwich. It suited both of them to not jump into the relationship full time and with both feet right away.

As well as foot rubbing, he'd learned that she preferred a quiet night in with takeout than expensive restaurants, ball games instead of the opera. They both shared an appreciation for music, though their tastes differed mostly on the genre they preferred but had found soft jazz a pleasant compromise.

He was surprised to learn that she enjoyed dancing but it delighted him that she did. Angela had two left feet so he'd rarely gotten the chance to indulge in one of his favourite pastimes when he was married. As they watched the band, he'd watched Lisbon tap her foot in time to the rhythm as they attended a jazz club on one early date. Pried with a couple of glasses of Rioja she'd finally succumbed to the call of the music and his insistent requests to take to the floor. The memory of them with their bodies glued to each other and his hands splayed across her hips as they swayed to the sound of a lonely saxophone was one he had revisited often since.

They'd made out in his car that night and steamed up its windows like two lustful teenagers. He grinned as he recalled it vividly.

"So?" she asked, removing him from his rapidly more carnal thoughts, "I suppose you're going to tell me the husband didn't do it because it looks like a slam dunk to me. He has priors with violence against women, an unlicensed firearm-"

"I agree. He looks very good for it." He paused for dramatic effect and took another sip. "On paper." He smirked as he heard her puff of discontent. Another thing he had learned was how joyous and easy it was to wind her up.

"And I suppose you're going to tell me who killed his wife then, if not him?" she responded.

"I'd look at her sister if I were you."

"Her sister? You sure?"

"Yes. She was jealous of her relationship and I suspect she's having an affair with the husband. Or was. It's over now, I'd guess. That's the guilt you're no doubt picking up in his demeanour, the affair with his sister in law, not the murder of his wife."

Lisbon pulled her feet from his lap, leaning forward and set her mug down as he pointed to a photograph in front of him. Jane pulled his arm around her shoulder and pointed to a blonde woman in the picture. "This is her, right? The sister?"

Lisbon nodded. "Yes, she was at some charity gala and her picture was in the paper. I don't even know why that's in the file. Van Pelt's a little over eager sometimes with her research."

"Good for you that she is." He pointed to another photograph of the victim's sister, this time her DMV record photo. "See the difference?"

Lisbon frowned then shrugged upon seeing the two photographs side by side. "So what? Her hair is blonder and longer in the newer photograph. People change their hairstyles and colours all the time, Patrick."

"That's not my point. My point is that she went and got...what by the looks of it...are expensive highlights and I'd guess hair extensions too that probably took six hours."

She furrowed her brow. "So? It's not a crime to have your hair coloured. Although those ugly extension things should be, I'll agree to that."

He grinned and pecked her lips. "Thank god for that. I don't want to get my hand caught in one of those when I'm kissing you."

She laughed and nodded to the photographs again. "What's your point about blondie?"

He drew his head back with a smirk. "Hey, I hope that isn't some latent bias you have against blonds?"

She laughed again. "Come on, your point. Get to it."

"My point is that her sister was killed and here she is two days later getting primped to perfection. Hardly the actions of a grieving sister."

"Maybe she had the appointment lined up, thought it would make her feel better. Grief makes people act in all sorts of crazy ways."

"I'll agree to that but in her case, no, I doubt she had it pre-booked. And even if she did, who would think of a hairdressing appointment after your sister dies? Or a charity event, come to that? I think killing her sister empowered her. Made her feel unburdened and want a new life for herself. I'd hazard a guess that the sister was always the more popular one of the pair. And she knew you'd blame the husband so she gets her own back on him too. He probably tried to end the affair and that's what set her off."

"That's a lot of supposition because someone went to the hairdresser."

He shrugged. "You want more? Her eyes are too close together." When she rolled her eyes, he continued, "Just look into her some more, you'll see that I'm right."

She sighed and closed the file on the table. "Fine. You have been right about four other cases so I guess we can bring her in for questioning again."

She dropped a kiss to his lips that he reciprocated. "You're good at this stuff, you know," she said quietly as their lips touched again.

"Kissing?" he smiled, drawing her into his arms and pulling her against the back of the sofa as he put his feet up on the coffee table.

She played with the buttons on his shirt as she looked up at him. "I was actually talking about detective work."

He kissed her temple. "It's interesting. Apart from the dead bodies you have to look at every day, it is enjoyable figuring out the puzzle, finding the killer."

She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him, a light moan escaping her as he deepened it and ran his fingers across her cheek gently. He whispered in her ear. "No, I don't want to take it up as a profession for the third time, Teresa."

"I know," she said, settling her head on his chest. "The job would take too much time away from Charlotte."

"Precisely. Plus the grisly events you see every day aren't exactly my cup of tea."

He glanced at his watch as he thought about his daughter.

"How long until you have to get home?" she asked.

"Still have half an hour. Babysitter has some exam tomorrow so I need to be home by ten."

She sighed. "Okay. Where's your mom tonight?"

He chuckled. "Tap dancing."

Swiftly she faced him again and laughed. "Tap dancing?"

He nodded. "Yep. Yet another class she signed herself up for. I swear that woman gets crazier the older she gets."

Lisbon wrapped her arms around Jane's neck. "So that's where you get it from?"

He kissed her. "You think I'm crazy?"

She grinned. "From the first moment I met you."

"So what does that say about you?"

She shrugged. "I'd rather not think about it. Have you always been this close to her? Your mom?"

He paused and licked his lips. "No, not always," he said quietly.

His change in tone from amused to sombre made her study him further, a question set in her eyes for him to continue.

He sighed as he rolled his eyes. "Is this the part where you want me to delve into my past and unburden myself with being honest again?"

"Apparently it's what people in relationships do. Share."

He smirked, "You borrow a copy of Cosmo from Grace and read that little titbit of relatonship advice? Or did you get it out of a fortune cookie?"

She tapped his chest. "Come on, tell me, Patrick." A second later uncertainty ran across her face. "I mean...if you want to. If it's too hard and you don't-"

"No, I do." He frowned, surprised at his still newfound openness with her. He nodded after a moment with a long sigh. "Wow, I really do want you to know this stuff. Imagine that," he said quietly to himself more than to her with a shake of his head.

She grinned in response. "Good. Now spill."

He breathed out slowly. "I grew up in the carny circuit as you know already."

"Yeah, you said it was a tough life, I imagine it would be. Travelling all the time, working even as a child-"

"That's all true. But...but when you're a very young boy growing up there it's incredible. At least, that's how I saw it back then. Now I know differently and my mother shielded me from some of the harsher realities. But I didn't know that then."

He paused and brought her closer, dropping a kiss to her hair to steel himself for what he said next. "My father...well, he's another story. Or was-"

"He's dead? You've never mentioned him until now."

He shrugged. "I have no idea. Haven't seen the man in years thankfully. But...but that's not what this is about. You asked about my mother."

"Yeah, sorry, go on."

"My father taught me the psychic trade. It was the family business, I guess you'd say, taught through the generations since the Janes came to America from Ireland decades ago. He was trained to be a showman himself, a flashy smile and a suitcase full of compliments as he fleeced you before you even realised it and then thanked him afterwards for the trouble and the hole in your pocket."

Lisbon frowned at the bitterness in his tone, the first time she'd heard him talk so despairingly about someone since she'd met him.

He continued, "He wasn't all that good at the observational stuff like I am but he noticed how good I was early on. Never one to waste an opportunity when laid at his feet and I was his Golden Goose. When I was about...six or seven I started to notice arguments going on between my parents, tension between them. He used to treat her well from what I can recall in my younger years-"

"But she didn't like him moulding you into a version of himself."

He nodded. "I wasn't astute enough to realise that at the time. And, who knows what problems there were between them out of my earshot. She was a good actress in making me feel like I was in a loving family and he was good at going along with it for a quieter life. And, like I said, he was a showman. I guess she wasn't immune to his charms when they met. And maybe he loved her back then too, who knows. She turned a blind eye to his cons when it was just the two of them. She probably got a kick out of being with a bad boy, as it were. A little danger to keep things interesting, I guess."

"But she didn't want that for you. When you came along...she began to think differently."

He nodded. "When I picked my first pocket she went crazy." He began to chuckle unexpectedly. "It didn't help matters that it was hers."

Lisbon gaped at him. "Seriously? You stole from your own mother?"

He shrugged. "She was an easy mark, couldn't help myself." He sighed as the humour left his tone. "A few nights later an almighty fight broke out between them. She left me with some friends in the circuit, said it would just be for a little while and that she wanted to speak to my father alone. Said she'd come and get me later on. I knew it was serious. Somehow I knew that...that she had it with him finally. The pick pocketing incident stirred something in her that she'd already been thinking about for a while. She didn't realise I'd sneak out to see what was happening at home, of course."

He leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. "So I heard the argument. I heard her shouting at my father, giving him hell and telling him that she was leaving him and taking me with her."

Lisbon moved forward in turn. "What made you want to sneak out to witness that?"

"Like I said, because I knew she was going to yell at him. And I...and I..." He shook his head as he exhaled.

She took his hand and squeezed it gently. "You wanted to stop her; you were on your father's side."

He nodded as he lowered his head to the ground. "Up to that point all he'd ever done was made me feel special. Made me feel important, smart, different to the other kids on the circuit. Kept telling me I'd make it big someday if I stuck with him. That he'd get my name in lights, more money than I'd know what to do with. Made me want all of that. And made me believe that if I achieved it then he'd be proud of me."

He laughed mirthlessly. "Made me into an arrogant little shit in the process. My mother was trying to keep me grounded, keep my feet firmly on terra firma, teach me about truth...honesty...decency but I...but I didn't want that. I wanted the attention, the money. I didn't want to be someone ordinary. I fell for his swagger like everyone else. I was always just a mark to him when it came to it. But I saw that much too late."

"Oh god, Patrick," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

He looked over at her, a sad smile on his lips. "I've only ever said all that once before." He breathed out as he began to compose himself and she smiled a nervous smile back at him, caught off guard by the admission of the significance of him telling her something he'd presumably only ever told his wife about before now.

She swallowed down the swell of her heart and the terror she felt simultaneously. "What happened next?"

He leaned back on the couch again and looked at the ceiling. His voice was distant. "I got in the middle of it. The row, that is. She was shocked and tried to downplay what was going on but told me to get my coat as we were leaving. My father said I wasn't going anywhere with her. At the time I thought," he laughed, "- and I can't believe how stupid I was back then – I thought that he wanted me to be with him because he cared for me and wanted the best for my future-"

"You chose him over her," Lisbon stated quietly. "You wouldn't leave with her."

He nodded. "No, I wouldn't. No matter what she said I refused to go anywhere with her, told her I wouldn't leave my father. When she saw how obstinate I was she said she'd stay with us then, that she'd change her mind about leaving. But all it did was make him realise the power he had over me. And that his wife was willing to run out on him?..Well, his machismo wouldn't allow that, a woman leaving him, his wife, of all people.

"He realised their relationship was over, that the spell he'd cast on her had been broken. That she saw him for who he was. And he couldn't have someone like that in his life, not when he had me to mould and make him a fortune."

Lisbon's eyes widened. "So he cast her out?"

Jane looked at her again and nodded. "Like day old newspaper. He had enough friends in the carnival to make sure of it."

"I-I can't believe it. That she left you with him."

Jane shrugged. "She didn't have a choice, Teresa, and certainly not with me behaving how I was. Even if she'd managed to get me out of there I'd have run right back to him first chance I got somehow. I didn't know all the ins and outs of how she left until after we reconnected again a few years ago, how she'd been driven out by him and his cronies. He told me she'd decided to leave us after all the next day when I woke up, put his own little spin on the events of that night to make sure I never sought her out.

"I found out what he was really like after she left though it took a few years to see the depths he'd go to for a quick buck. He had no one to pretend to play happy families with any longer so he hunkered down to the job in hand, to make me the best fake psychic I could be. And he did a fantastic job, I have to give him that."

Lisbon's eyes watered. "And I thought I had a crappy childhood."

He shrugged and pulled her against him for a kiss. "I know you did." They'd never discussed her own dysfunctional family upbringing but knew she'd share her story with him if he asked her, he had already guessed alcohol and physical abuse were a huge part of it from aspects to her personality he'd noticed as he'd gotten to know her over the past month. The fact she'd battled through it to become the strong woman she was today only made him admire her more.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," she said quietly as she kissed him back.

"My past doesn't scare you away? Make you realise what a mess I am underneath the bravado?"

She shook her head. "Makes me like you even more than I thought I did. That's what scares me, not your past."

His immediate grin brightened his features and made her smile. "Then that makes two of us."

* * *

 **A/N: So I went on a little angsty diversion in this chapter but I hope you enjoyed it anyway and it fills in some details about this universe I've created. Never fear, more fluff is coming your way ( & perhaps a little more angst too...) soon. Thank you for taking the time to read and especially to those who take the time to review also, I always appreciate the feedback.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Apologies for not responding to reviews last chapter. Home life is a little crazy at the moment but I really do appreciate them and I'll try to do better in that regard. This is a shortish chapter that I ran up pretty quickly but hopefully an enjoyable one too. I'm working on updates to my other two stories (update for Broken is further ahead than Reconnect currently).**

 **Hoping I'll be able to post at least one of them within the next week before I go on holiday week after next. Currently writing some fluff like this is proving easier currently, though. Thanks again.**

* * *

Chapter 6 – Bribery

Jane handed out filled brown paper bags in the CBI bullpen with a grin as they were received appreciatively like lottery winnings.

"Grace, Wayne, and not forgetting my good friend, Kimball," he said as he passed around the sandwiches he'd made them all.

Rigsby was predictably the first to take a peek inside. "Did you remember extra-?"

"Mustard? Of course."

"You're a legend, man," the tall agent smiled, slapping him on the back.

"Thanks, Patrick," Van Pelt smiled as she made her way back to her desk.

"My pleasure to feed California's finest law enforcement personnel," he quipped.

As Rigsby departed to devour his lunch, Cho was left to cast a steely gaze at the blond man. "Okay, what's your angle with Lisbon this time?"

"Angle? You're very suspicious, you know that?" Jane smiled.

Unfazed, "Yeah. What is it?"

Jane narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. Rarely had he met someone he couldn't charm instantly. It was refreshing to duel with Cho verbally when he stopped by to see his girlfriend. Bribery mostly worked on the others but only honesty impressed the man before him. He was obviously made from the same mould as she was.

The two men shared a silent understanding. Jane would be welcomed into the fold as long as he was doing right by her. So far the ribbing was good natured but knew if he ever hurt her it would be a very different matter. He may even be required to appoint a bodyguard. So far their relationship was going swimmingly, though, with barely a bump in the road from his perspective.

Cho continued, "Last time you brought us lunch was so we would work the late shift so you could take her to the game."

"Believe me, that turned into more of a penance for me than for you," Jane argued. "My arm was bruised as she continually took out her aggravation on me than on those on the field."

Naturally, Jane didn't mention that being riled up by the poor game they'd witnessed had brought out the altogether more pleasurable animalistic side to her nature too. She'd taken her frustrations out for the pitiable performance she'd seen on the baseball field by hitting a fantastic second base strike herself when she'd got home that night, showing the so called professionals what impassioned play she was capable of reaching and putting their lacklustre efforts to shame.

She'd pinned him against the wall of her condo as soon as they made it inside and kissed the life out of him, writhing her body against his, her hands' quick progress only impeded by their clothing. Only a call from his mother who was performing a stock check on canned goods at the diner had stopped her from turning it into a championship winning home run right there and then.

He'd detested peaches ever since. Canned or otherwise.

Cho dropped the sandwich to a desk beside him and crossed his arms across his chest. Impassively, "Got work to do. What is it?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Lisbon said as she entered the bullpen.

Jane turned and beamed a smile at her. "Hey, sweetheart, how's your day going?"

An expected blush fell upon her cheeks to the term of endearment proffered. "Patrick, you can't resort to bribery every time you want to take me out," she said, attempting to sound authoritative.

"I don't mind," Rigsby said as he shoved a bite of a Philly steak sandwich into his mouth with an enthusiastic sound of contentment.

"Nor do I," Van Pelt added with a smile as she took a small bite of her own chicken salad on rye.

"See?" Jane grinned. "They don't mind."

It was obvious where Rigsby's nonchalance on the matter resided. Jane had never met a man who enjoyed his food more. Van Pelt was happy to see her boss happy and more relaxed at work, he imagined, and being a consummate romantic herself to boot helped.

Lisbon shook her head. "That's not the point. Besides, Cho and I do mind, quite obviously."

"Meh, Cho will still eat my food so he has no basis for objecting."

The man in question replied, "Why wouldn't I eat it if you give it to me? One thing has nothing to do with the other."

Jane rolled his eyes at Cho's somewhat twisted logic and ignored the comment. He focused on Lisbon. "And you just don't want to appear malleable in front of your team. You don't need to worry about that, my dear. They still respect you. They're just happy when you're happy. Even dour Agent Cho here."

Lisbon glared at him. "Well, I'm feeling less happy now, that's for damn sure."

"Uh-oh," Rigsby muttered. He added quietly with a snort as he looked at his computer screen, "Abort, abort."

Cho wisely took his sandwich back to his desk. "I'm out," he said with a shake of his head as he opened the bag and pulled out his ham and cheese on wholemeal.

Jane nodded towards Lisbon's office. "Guess we're having a talk alone in there now, are we?" he said politely with a raised eyebrow.

She shot him an eye roll and marched in front of him. "Get back to your work," she called to the others who were watching the pair of them retreat with interest.

* * *

He deftly took a sandwich out of his pocket and held it up to her as soon as they entered the glass cubicle. "A peace offering before you start," he laughed.

She huffed and grabbed the bag off him, slamming it down on her desk. "Patrick-"

"I know. I know. You're the boss, you have to retain that air of authority with your team. Don't take it out on the bread, Teresa. Though now I know where to go when I need my dough kneaded."

She ignored his attempt at joking his way out of this. "Then why do you insist on coming here and belittling me in front of them?"

"I wasn't! I was saying the exact opposite if you were listening. They're happy for you, Teresa. Happy for both of us. Just because we're together doesn't detract from your status, they don't perceive you any differently. Maybe just a little less grumpy," he smiled.

He continued, more serious, "You're the one who's making more of this than you have to. You're allowed to be both my girlfriend and their supervising agent. They're not mutually exclusive. Look, if I stepped across any lines, I apologise. If you think it'll help you with discipline feel free to yell at me."

He tilted his head to the side, "Kind of turns me on when you do that, to be honest. It's pretty hot."

"Girlfriend?" she repeated, barely hearing the rest of what he'd said, caught off guard by the term.

He frowned. "Yes. Aren't you?"

"I-I...we never talked about it. If that's what we are to each other."

"I thought it didn't need to be said. I'm certainly not seeing anyone else." Uncertainty washed across his face. "Why? Are-are you?"

She shrugged. Anxious, "Uh...well...actually..."

As his face fell she began to laugh. "Ha. Serves you right for that little spectacle out there. Of course I'm not seeing anyone else, I barely have time to see you, you idiot."

He shook his head at her and exhaled. "Thanks. Way to give a man a heart attack, woman."

"Think of it as your punishment for trying to bribe my staff," she smiled triumphantly.

He came a step closer. "Trying?" He nodded to the three agents each in the various stages of eating their lunches outside. "I'd say I succeeded."

She laughed. "Damn, they're easy prey for you. Even Cho."

"Cho is still a work in progress, you'll be glad to know."

"So, what price do they have to pay for your generosity?"

He took hold of her waist gently. Grinning, "Saturday afternoon. I want you to go sailing with me."

Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh god no. No way in hell am I doing that!"

He chuckled, "Well, that's not the acceptance to the invitation I expected. You get seasick, I take it?"

She made a face. "I'm sorry. Yeah, it's pretty bad."

He shrugged. "Okay, it was just an idea. I'll think of another one."

"But why aren't you spending the day with Charlotte like always on a Saturday?"

"She has her first school trip away," he said with some nervousness. "Her junior scout troupe is going camping overnight. They leave Saturday afternoon. Thought spending the day with you on the water would take my mind off worrying about her."

She smiled sweetly at him. "She's going to be absolutely fine, Patrick."

"Yeah...yeah, I know. It's just..."

"It's her first time away from you. I get it," she said softly.

He pulled her closer towards him when he saw her compassionate side come to the fore, knowing she wouldn't push him away even while she was at work if he was worried about his daughter. He was not ashamed to take any advantage offered to him. His palms skimmed her hips. "How about a picnic together instead?" he suggested. "We could take a drive down the coast, find a secluded beach."

"Sounds nice," she grinned. "Oh, and your bribery wasn't required by the way. My team and I are off duty all weekend, anyway. Perks from the higher ups. Our closure rates have improved lately thanks to some help from a consultant I don't even have to pay for."

"Damn," he laughed. "Hoisted by own petard."

"Yep," she agreed, moving his hands away and shooting him a knowing smile at pushing her affection at work.

A moment later she troubled her bottom lip and went to speak before stopping herself.

"What is it?" Jane asked.

"Well," she said, licking her lips, "if Charlotte is going to be away all night then maybe we could...well, we could find a little B&B or something Saturday night. What do you think?"

His heart began to pummel against his chest wall at her invitation to spend the night together. As close as they'd come to it on occasions over the past six weeks they hadn't made love yet rather surprisingly and he'd never stayed over at her place. He was certain it was for his benefit she was being this patient and resolved to still taking things slow, or perhaps the pressure of her being the first woman he slept with after his wife scared her too.

A cowardly part of him hoped she would seduce him so the decision of when the right time might be would be largely taken out of his hands. That night after the ballgame came as close to it as she ever had. Her patience was running thin that night. It appeared now it had finally run out and she was finally taking the initiative with the opportunity presented.

The thought of making love with her filled him with equal parts glee and equal parts terror. The two emotions were currently embroiled in a battle over which would ultimately win out.

But at this moment, as he gazed into her beseeching emerald eyes, there was only ever going to be one winner. He answered softly, "Sounds wonderful."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - Preparations

Jane fetched fresh boxers from the oak chest of drawers in his bedroom and dropped them into a brown leather holdall that sat on top of his bed. A tap came to his door.

"Come in, mom," he called out, heading into his ensuite bathroom to fetch his shaving set and aftershave.

He re-entered his bedroom to find her peeking into his bag and at the beige shirt he'd placed on the bed.

"All set?" she said brightly, looking up at him.

"Almost," he said with a distracted frown as he peered inside his bag, packing away the toiletries he'd just collected.

She held up the shirt he'd chosen to change into for dinner and shook her head. "No. Bring the light blue one instead. It brings out the colour of your eyes more."

He smirked, "Since when are you a fashionista? Besides, Teresa doesn't care about all that stuff, anyway."

She went to his wardrobe and switched shirts, passing him the blue one. "You think you know everything about everything sometimes. But sometimes you don't, young man. You want to impress her? Wear the blue one."

He rolled his eyes but took it without a word, not in the frame of mind to begin a battle he was sure to always lose when his mother got something into her head. His stubbornness in that same regard had clearly been inherited from her. As he finished packing he troubled his bottom lip, mentally checking he hadn't forgotten anything. His memory palace was failing him as he thought about what lay ahead with Teresa as excitement rushed through his veins, in direct contradiction to the stillness around him, and causing him to switch his thoughts to the cause of the relative calmness that had descended over his house for the past hour.

"It's so quiet without Charlie here, isn't it?" Alison mumbled with a sigh, voicing his thoughts.

He nodded as a breath escaped. "She'll be okay, right?" he said, turning around to her.

She smiled. "Of course she will. How was she when you dropped her off?"

He muttered, "Your granddaughter barely glanced back at me as she ran off to see her friends and there I was valiantly trying to hold back the tears." He shook his head. "I didn't want her to cry but...jeez, it was a little too easy for her to give me a quick hug and then escape happily to go enjoy herself."

She laughed. "So because you're raising a clearly independent and well adjusted daughter you're put out she didn't grasp onto you like a limpet, are you?"

"Absolutely," he said with seriousness. He smiled then dropped it a second later. "And I didn't raise her alone. I-I don't say it often enough but...but you know how much I appreciate everything you do around here, don't you?"

Alison Jane's eyes misted over and she swallowed thickly as a tear escaped. As she let go of a ragged breath he laughed softly, "And that is the very reason I don't tell you that very often, mother."

He was embraced anyhow. "You and that little girl changed my life too, you know that, Patrick."

He pulled back and took a deep breath. "Okay, enough of these soppy histrionics. Charlotte has no idea what she turned both of us into today. We never speak of this again," he told her with a smile.

"Okay, whatever you say," his mother replied, wiping a tear away. She cleared her throat. "So, where are you and Teresa staying?"

He shook his head as he zipped up his holdall. "I have no idea. Teresa insisted on booking the hotel. Someplace with a sea view, she said."

"Sounds nice."

"Yeah, hopefully it will be."

A beat passed as put on his watch. "Patrick, have you thought about introducing them? Teresa and Charlotte, I mean. It's getting more serious now, don't you think it's time?"

Without looking at her he replied, "Sure. I'll get around to it one of these days."

"When?" his mother prodded, hearing the deflection in his tone.

"Soon," he said with a smile. "Besides, she hasn't mentioned it to me so we're in no rush for that just yet." He looked around the room. "Now...is there anything else I need...?"

She sighed as he effectively closed down the conversation.

A moment later he saw her open her mouth to speak then close it again as a blush crept across her face while he picked up his overnight bag to leave. She stood in the doorway, playing with her hands. "Now...before you go...uh...Patrick-" she started.

He interrupted her immediately as another uncomfortable conversation topic was seemingly about to rear its head. "Mother, if the word condom comes out of your mouth I swear I'm disowning you immediately."

She sighed and dropped her shoulders, the flush continuing to make its way towards her neck. "Well, it's...it's been a long time since you've...well, since you've been out there dating...well, really dating, I mean..."

"Oh sweet Jesus," he said under his breath with a shake of his head as he closed his eyes briefly. Louder, "It's a little late for a talk about the birds and the bees, isn't it?"

She tutted. "I'm just saying that I'm sure Teresa is a modern woman and would take care of these matters herself but it's also your responsibility-"

"I swear I'm going to have nightmares if you continue," he said, brushing past her with his bag.

She caught up with him as he collected his car keys downstairs. "Okay, okay," she said, holding her palms up to him. "You have it covered, obviously."

"Thank god for that. So, what are your plans for the evening?" he asked, rapidly changing the subject from his sex life.

"Freda is coming over to help me housesit for you. Just a quiet night in with an old friend and a catch up."

"Ah. So what you mean is that I'll return to my wine collection depleted and you $20 dollars down when you bet on the wrong boxer in the fight later on," he smirked.

She tilted her head to the side. "Any tips for me, then?"

"Bet on the little guy, he's hungrier for it. And put ten on for me while you're at it."

"Will do." She hugged him quickly. "Okay, get out of here, you don't want to be late. Have fun."

* * *

As he drove towards Lisbon's condo in an open top Cadillac he'd hired for the occasion, he considered his mother's words to him on birth control. She hadn't been far wrong in what she'd said. Or was about to say.

When he'd stopped by the drugstore on his way back from dropping off Charlotte he'd been overwhelmed by the range of condoms available nowadays. He hadn't thought about having sex in more than five years and he and Angela had stopped using birth control two years prior to that while they were trying for a baby.

His eyes had widened as he'd read the types on the shelves – _extra sensitive_ , _real feel_ , _mutual climax_ (how the hell did they guarantee that?) _,_ _extra safe_ (wasn't that the point, anyway?), _extended pleasure_...

The list went on and on. Times had certainly changed from when the only thing people considered was what size to get. Overwhelmed by the array in choice, he'd finally decided on a variety box that would allow Teresa to choose her pleasure (and hopefully leading to his, too) later on...well, assuming things went as he hoped they would in that respect, that was.

* * *

He beeped the horn outside her place and draped an arm across his headrest as he waited for her with a grin as he watched the front door. He felt silly and like a teenager again, a rush of adrenalin coursing through him edged with some nervousness, the fingers of his free hand tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. He'd never been able to afford these kinds of dates with Angela in the early days, they barely made enough money to pay rent when they first fled the carnival, never mind spend nights at swish hotels.

Perhaps that's why he wanted to spoil Teresa; the extravagance was for him to live out his fantasies and not for her, he had to admit. Yes, she would enjoy them with a smile and a roll of her eyes but would probably also give him a ticking off about wasting money too. Warmth flooded through him at the thought of the delicious pout that accompanied her now well worn look of disapproval when he provided her with something outlandish.

The door opened and his smile grew as he saw a vision in purple walk through it in a simple sundress that skimmed her toned naked pale thighs as she walked and bared her collarbone, simple spaghetti straps holding it in place over the curve of her breasts. She smiled then shook her head reproachfully at him and his choice of vehicle. He nodded to the overnight bag she carried, "Need a hand?"

"No, I'm good," she replied, throwing it into the back seat of the car. He leaned over and opened the passenger door so she could get in opposite him.

"Seriously?" she said with another shake of her head. "What's with the car?"

He grinned and bent over to kiss her quickly. "Hired it. You like it?"

"You're nuts," she huffed in response and, just as he had predicted, proceeded with an endearing roll of her eyes to match.

"Nice dress," he remarked casually, as he started up the engine with a brief glance at her legs again before pulling out of her driveway. Anymore than that he didn't trust himself at the wheel. The heat in his gaze matched the heat of the sun and she threw on a pair of sunglasses and grinned seductively at him. "Thanks."

* * *

"Strawberries and Champagne, huh?" Lisbon teased as they lay on a blanket on a deserted beach they'd found a few miles off the highway. "Little clichéd, isn't it?"

She lay on her side facing him as he propped himself up on an elbow. He topped up her glass that sat beside the opened picnic basket he'd packed. "You don't want any?" he smiled, waggling a strawberry playfully in her face.

She grabbed it off him and popped it into her mouth. His pupils dilated as he watched a few drops of stray juice dribble from her strawberry coated lips. "Talking of clichés, though," he said, leaning over to kiss her mouth softly. He licked his lips afterwards with a grin. "Very nice. Sweet too. Strawberries aren't bad either."

They ate the rest of the picnic he'd brought for them made up of sandwiches and some pastries as they watched the ocean roll in and out slowly in front of them, the easy lapping of waves drawing them into a comfortable companionable silence. Lisbon sat up every now and then to watch a sailboat in the distance as Jane lay on the blanket, his right hand occasionally straying to her lower back and caressing it gently.

"You don't do this very often, do you?" he asked, causing her to turn her head towards him.

"Relax and do nothing, I mean," he added.

She shrugged and shook her head as she looked ahead again. "No. I'm...I'm not good with taking time out for myself. But...but with you...I don't know...I find it easier, somehow."

He sat up and kissed a bare freckled shoulder. "Good."

They sat watching the waves together for a few more seconds in silence. She let go of a breath and whispered, "I-I like you a lot, you know," a frown set on her face as she stared at a seagull ahead.

He glanced at her side profile and smiled at her awkwardness, but surprised and touched by her words. For Teresa Lisbon, admitting she liked someone in that heartfelt and quiet way of hers was as big a deal as someone else proposing marriage. He kissed her cheek softly. "I like you a lot too," he replied with the same sincerity.

She reddened accordingly and nodded. "Okay. Well, good, then."

He began to pack empty glasses and paper plates into the picnic basket and nodded at the receding sun. "Want to head off to the hotel? It's getting a little cooler now."

"Yeah," she smiled, "sounds good."

There was a different air about her as she got up and brushed the sand from her dress while she continued to smile shyly at him. As they collected the blanket she appeared to him to be more open and lighter, happier. More relaxed. Hopeful even. Time stood still for a second as he brushed his lips against hers as she brought the ends of the blanket across to him while helping him fold it. Something indiscernible changed between them in that moment, the coarseness of the rug wedged between them, their lips touching, the smell of the sea in the air, the cool breeze on their skin. As they drew apart they looked at each other curiously, both aware of something new, something deeper, aware of more promise, of more to lose, of more to be said, of more that didn't need to be said.

He took her hand and kissed its knuckles softly as their eyes locked.

They turned silently and neither spoke for seconds as they shuffled across the sand. Then, as they made it to the grass verge that led to the car she said, "Patrick, I've been thinking. Maybe it's time I met Charlotte. What do you think?"

* * *

 **A/N: I know, a little bit of a cliffhanger! Been a while since I had one. You'll hopefully be pleased to know that I'm concentrating on this story solely to finish it shortly (apologies to those waiting from Broken or Reconnect updates, they are coming after, I assure you). Just a few more chapters of this one to go anyway and I have next chapter pretty much written so the wait won't be too long. Thanks again for all your lovely words of encouragement as always.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - Reservations

He wasn't sure how he hadn't stopped walking immediately by her side as she'd uttered the words, how he'd contorted his expression into thoughtfulness instead of panic. Because panic was the overriding emotion he felt at her request. First his mother had brought the topic up. It had been easy to derail her and had told her the truth that Teresa hadn't mentioned meeting his daughter. It was easier to have left the ball in Teresa's court, to only have to consider the idea when pushed into it.

But now she had, it changed everything, effectively fastforwarding their relationship more than he was sure he was ready for. Or that she was, come to that. He felt something for her deeply but was he ready for that massive step into unchartered territory? Was his daughter?

"Ah, you'd like that?" he asked, desperately playing for time to get his head around the idea. "Really? You think it's time for that already?"

His tone was obviously not as controlled as he thought it was as she stopped and frowned at him. But then Teresa Lisbon was a fine detective and reading people was her business too. She wasn't as good as him at it, obviously, but he'd been trained in that field since he was Charlotte's age. She'd had to wait until police academy before she learnt some of the tricks involved.

"You don't, quite obviously," she stated. Her voice remained calm but she couldn't disguise the upset in it. Not to him, anyway.

"Okay, that's fine, I get it," she added quickly, resuming her walk towards the car, her pace quicker than before.

He breathed out. He could let this go. And so would she. She'd be unsettled for a few minutes, maybe more, but by the time they were back at the hotel he'd be able to distract her with some searing kisses...perhaps more than that. He'd revisit the subject further down the line, of course. He just didn't need to discuss it more now, he told himself.

He watched her hips sway in front of him, the back of her dress whip up as a breeze uncovered more alabaster skin and hit him like a provocative slap in the face. If a walk could be both determined and hurt then she had it perfected to a T. He breathed out. _Time to stop stalling and grow up_ , a voice inside told him that sounded remarkably like his mother's. Damn that woman.

"Teresa, wait," he called after her, increasing his pace. But she didn't slow down and was waiting to get into the car when he made it there, her eyes set on the door handle. "Jeez, woman, you should take up the 100 metres," he said, drawing a long breath.

She ignored his comment and pulled at the handle. Then she relaxed her face into a smile that never made it to her eyes. "Come on, slowcoach, let's go," she said with much too much chirpiness.

She really was a terrible actress. "Let's talk about what you said first," he said softly, catching her eyes.

Colour spread to her cheeks. She sighed, "Look, don't worry about it. Really. I understand. I-I know it's be a big deal to you who you allow into her life. If you're not ready, you're not ready. Let's forget I mentioned it and just enjoy our night."

She was giving him an out. But taking it now would make him feel like a coward. He'd been one for years, now was the time to be brave.

"It's not that I don't want you to meet her," he said. "It's just...well, you're right. I'm protective of her. Overly protective, most probably. And things are going so great between you and I at the minute as they stand-"

"You're afraid me meeting her would change that."

He nodded. "I am."

"I see." Her tone was fractionally glacial.

 _Well played, Paddy, you dumbass_ , a mocking voice told him that sounded just like his father's. If these voices kept up like they were today, he'd need to check himself in for a MRI.

He exhaled. "I just don't know how she'd react, that's all. It says nothing about you, Teresa. They're my insecurities, I know. I just don't want to spoil what we have. Or cause problems at home."

"So you're suggesting we just carry on like this? Have you hazarded a guess on how long you were intending of keeping both lives separate? An estimate on how long we see each other before you're ready to integrate them?" There was no pressure in her tone, just a need to know where she stood.

He shrugged. "I haven't given it that much thought, to be honest."

"Does she even know we're dating or that you're dating at all?"

Sheepishly, "She knows I have a friend called Teresa that I meet sometimes. I've never...well, I haven't said the word 'date' no."

Lisbon's jaw clenched. "So you haven't even laid any groundwork for us meeting?" She pointed between them. "Are you sure this means something to you?"

"You know I do. I haven't been happy like this in years."

She crossed her arms across her chest. "You remember what you said when you first came to my office?" Before he had a chance to speak she continued, "You said that I didn't like _my_ worlds colliding. Well, if it isn't the kettle meets the pot."

He sighed, "It's completely different."

"Is it?"

She nodded a moment later. "Okay, maybe it is. But look, I know I don't have a child to protect but I do have a job I love, Patrick. My work means the world to me but I've made room in my life for you despite that. I do that because I want you in my life, I want you to see all of it and be a part of all of it. You think that's easy for me? All this...opening up to someone crap?"

She began to stutter as she struggled to remain in control. "Because...because I-I want to give this a real shot. You think I've worked to midnight some nights happily? I do it because it means I get to spend the next one with you when you're free. I can't be the only one to bend here, Patrick. I won't be. I've been patient and I know you're afraid of...well, of many things but...but-"

He drew her into his arms, overwhelmed by her words, overwhelmed by the depth of the feelings she'd largely kept repressed until now. He'd known she found him sexually attractive and liked him, but until this point he wasn't completely sure she was so invested in their relationship. He'd had no idea she worked late nights so she could fit in with his schedule, just that she did, more often than not.

Surprisingly, he felt no panic at her words, only joy that someone – that she – expressed that she felt this way about him. It surprised him further when he immediately recognised that he wanted the relationship to work and move forward just as much as she did.

He kissed her hair, knowing his decision was made as his heart soared. "Okay, okay. I had no idea meeting her was so important to you. You never mentioned it until today. It's the first I heard of it. Just...just had to take a minute to get used to the idea first."

"Of course I want to meet her, Patrick. She's a part of your life. The biggest part of it. How could I not? But you were right. I should have said something before now, not just laid it all out in front of you like that and expect an answer straightaway. Guess meeting her has been on my mind, every time you mentioned her a part of me was hoping you'd bring it up."

He kissed her forehead. "I'll start laying the groundwork, I promise. I'll tell her all about you, okay?"

She pouted, suddenly uncertain. "I don't want you to do it because I'm forcing you into it. If you're really not ready-"

He began to laugh. "Christ, there's no winning with you, is there? Now, do you want to meet Charlotte or not?"

Before she replied he became serious again. "Because it is a big step, Teresa. Not just for her or for me, but for you too. Meeting her means we're in this for the long haul as far as I'm concerned. A commitment between us, if you like. Last thing I want for her is to lose someone she's just grown to love if you're not in this 100%. I know you can't guarantee what happens in the future, none of us can, but I need you to be sure it's what you want right now and will be able to live with the repercussions of that decision, whether they're good or bad."

A second passed in silence as they regarded each other as she pondered his words, his eyes piercing hers for an answer she was certain of. Then, a small nod. "I understand. But yes, I'd still very much like to meet her, Patrick. If you're sure about it, that is."

He beamed a smile at her and kissed her tenderly. "I'm so glad you said that. I'm sure too, I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. How about I tell her about us tomorrow when she gets home and we'll work up to an introduction in the coming days?"

* * *

The Oceania Hotel was a modern whitewashed building a few miles down the road. As they exited the vehicle Jane removed their bags from the car and they looked up at the simple but clean facade. "Looks nice," he remarked with a smile, placing his hand at her back to usher her inside. The cool breeze of air conditioning hit them as they strolled over to the reception desk, a simple wooden counter set at the far end of a small entrance hall. Lisbon glared at him when he removed his credit card from his wallet. He rolled his eyes and placed it back there again with a weary sigh as she handed over hers instead.

"Are you always this contrary when you're effectively on vacation?" he sighed as the receptionist tapped keys in front of them.

"I suggested it and booked it so I pay for it," she said. "You won't let me pay for anything when we go out. I swear, you must think I'm broke. I do have a job, you know. I am capable of treating us too."

"Yeah, a government one that pays peanuts, I'm sure."

"And you work in a diner with no customers."

"Actually I own it. An important distinction, my dear."

"You still make less money than I do."

"But I have more savings than you do, even if they were obtained from less than wholesome means."

Lisbon raised her voice. "All the more reason-"

She stopped talking when she saw the receptionist eye them strangely over her computer screen as their bickering became more animated. She blushed as Jane dazzled a smile at the young woman opposite. "Sorry, she's a little grumpy, she professed her undying love for me earlier and now she's uncomfortable it's all out in the open. She's trying to regain the upper hand."

Lisbon kicked his shin. Hard. "I did not."

He winced and shrugged at the blonde woman in front of them. "See what I mean? Highly defensive now."

The receptionist rolled her eyes under her lashes at the strange couple in front of her before beaming a well practiced fake smile at them "Thank you for choosing The Oceania. Here is your keycard. Please dial 5 from your room if you'd like to make a reservation for dinner in our restaurant. Please enjoy your stay. Elevator is to your right."

As soon as they were inside it she whacked him on the upper arm.

"Ow! Okay, okay. Calm down," he chuckled, putting his arms around her. "Let's leave the manhandling of me until later, shall we?"

Her eyes darkened and she grabbed his shirt collar and kissed him roughly. He stumbled backwards against the dark wood interior with a moan as she deepened it before she pulled away again just as quickly as she had pounced on him, glancing towards the tightness at the front of his pants as he stood with his mouth wide open and blinking wildly. "You sure you want to wait until later?" she grinned.

He shook his head.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Apologies for not responding to the reviews for the last chapter, was on holiday last week so little time to write as it was. This chapter is pretty fluff filled and kind of a filler. For those looking for something more substantial from me I'm itching to get back to my other fics Broken and Reconnect and will be doing so in the coming days. Though I'm not quite done with teasing you a little more in this one and perhaps throwing a curve ball or two into it before it ends.**

 **This chapter is for all those who have wished me happy birthday on Twitter today, not to mention those I've befriended there this past year who bought me some of the nicest and most thoughtful presents I've ever had over the past few weeks (B, H & S - I'm talking about you lovely ladies!)**

 **Sorry about the lengthy A/N, feeling a little on the sentimental side today.**

* * *

Chapter 9 - Predicaments

He kissed her earlobe as she slid the keycard into its slot, his hands at her sides, fingertips tapping along them impatiently. "Okay, you're the boss. Is that what you want to hear?"

"If I didn't know why you were suddenly so agreeable, then I might just believe you," she laughed. She arched her back slightly against him and followed it with a pronounced wiggle of her hips. Enlivened by a little too much Champagne or simply enjoying the upper hand to unnerve him further, he couldn't decide which - perhaps a little of both.

He closed his eyes as she rubbed against him. "Then hurry up with the damn key, woman, will you?" he said between gritted teeth.

She laughed again as the light above the gold handle turned green and she shoved the door wide open with force. If Jane's reflexes had been slower in pulling her back, it would have hit her straight back in the face as it slammed shut again immediately in front of them. "What the hell?!" she exclaimed.

Jane frowned and took the card from her, tried it. This time he opened the door slowly. He peered inside as her hand swiftly went to the bag at her hip. He glanced back at her with a smirk. "Cop instincts, huh?" He chuckled. "You better come in, you'll see what the problem is." He entered first, gauging her reaction as she came into the room.

Her eyes widened. For the second time in seconds she uttered disbelievingly, "What the hell?"

He began to chortle as she took note of her surroundings with undiluted annoyance.

The room was tiny. A chest of drawers lodged up beside the door had made it swing back on its hinges and close again when Lisbon had opened it with the flourish of a magician uncovering a white rabbit beneath a hat. The carpet was barely visible as the wardrobe was within touching distance of the bed.

"Meh, it's not that bad. Cosy," he tried.

Her gaze hardened on him. "It said Boutique Hotel so...well, I thought that meant romantic, not had rooms the size of a matchbox."

He sat on the bed and bounced on it. "Bed's big enough. And comfy. Come here," he offered. "It's fine, Teresa."

"The bed only looks big because the room is so small."

She marched over to the window and pulled open the curtains. Jane shielded his eyes from the sun's rays. "And it's supposed to have a sea view. I'm looking at dumpsters," she seethed. "They should be sued over the name. The Oceania - yeah, right."

He puffed out a breath and approached the window. Well, she wasn't wrong. He saw a rat scuttle out of one of the bins below. So fair enough, maybe she had a point about it not being such a romantic setting. Still, he pointed to the far right of the window and placed his other hand on her shoulder. "Well, they didn't actually lie about the sea view."

"What?"

He nodded towards where he was pointing. "See that minuscule triangle of blue in the very far distance - that's the ocean."

She turned around, ire in her eyes. "This isn't acceptable."

* * *

He toed his shoes off and lay on the bed, flicking on the television as she called reception to complain. From what he made out there were no other rooms available apart from single or twin rooms. She looked at him for his viewpoint and he shook his head with determination they wouldn't be spending their first night together in a cot. She nodded in agreement with a sigh. Shortly afterwards she replaced the receiver. "They've offered us free dinner in the hotel," she muttered as she sat on the edge of the bed. There wasn't enough room for her to pace to relieve some of her exasperation and her fingers drummed on her thighs instead.

"Well, that's nice," he said with a calmness he hoped she'd soon mirror.

"We'll probably get food poisoning," she grunted.

He chuckled and, as he did, she began to laugh too, relaxing her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she said with a shrug as she turned towards him. "Maybe I should have left the booking with you, after all."

"I'm not sorry at all," he replied, raising his head to place a palm on her face and drawing her into a slow kiss. "I have you and a nice bed for the night. And a free meal. Might even be able to scam a bottle of Champagne on the house too, so what's not to be happy about, hmm?"

"I guess," she smiled and kissed him back, pushing on his chest, his head falling back towards the pillow.

They kissed languidly for seconds, exploring, tasting each other. He scooted over slightly and she moved to lie on the bed beside him as they continued, then straddled a leg over his. He caressed her calf, slowly sought out the smoothness of her thigh, his fingers ghosting over it reverently. She moaned, pressing her breasts against his chest, almost escaping her dress as she writhed half on top of him. His breath hitched when she began to unbutton his shirt one handed as she kissed his neck, her kisses soft but purposeful, her other hand ruffling his curls lazily. He moved his hand higher still, heard her breathing accelerate as it skimmed the soft cotton of her panties at her hipbone, his hand trembling now. She moaned appreciatively, encouraging him on as her fingertips danced over the skin she'd exposed on his chest.

Suddenly he patted her backside playfully and pulled back, slightly out of breath. He stammered, "Think-think I'll have a shower before dinner." He laughed forcefully, "I have sand everywhere."

He pecked her forehead and was off the bed before she realised what was happening. He picked up his overnight bag, saw her look of bewilderment. "Unless you want to have one first?" he asked, ignoring it steadfastly.

She shook her head. "No. No, you go ahead." She got off the bed awkwardly, barely room at her side to swing her legs. "I might go for a run first."

He held his bag before him like armour. "Really?"

She looked pointedly at him. "Yeah, I'm kinda keyed up, feel the need to let off some steam."

He smiled and nodded, licking his lips nervously. "All right then, I'll see you later."

He closed the bathroom door behind him with a large puff of breath, leaned his forehead on the inside of it and shook his head.

* * *

Jane re-entered the bedroom after showering and found it empty. He saw the note she'd left for him that she'd decided to get some exercise and would be back soon. Her handwriting was slanted and the pen marks dug deep into the paper. She was pissed. And highly frustrated. He could hardly blame her. He sat on the bed and surveyed the room, the smell of her citrus perfume still wafting in the air. He'd thought about exploring her when he was in the shower, how close he'd come to seeing her unravel beautifully before him. Then nerves had got the better of him and he'd drawn back. If he'd set out to purposefully tease her he couldn't have done a better job.

He sat watching television, barely noticing what was on screen as he succumbed to a bout of self pity and self doubt, then jumped, startled when he heard the door fly open forty minutes later. It closed again immediately and he heard her swear outside the room. He stifled a laugh as she entered, opening it more slowly this time and giving the chest of drawers a dirty look.

"Hey," he said brightly, already changed into his evening attire, a dark blue three piece suit with the pale blue shirt he'd had pressed upon him. "Have a good run? I booked a table for eight."

He ran his eyes appreciatively over her body as she moved towards the bottom of the bed, perspiration covering her face and her hair put up in a high ponytail. Her legs glimmered in her sport shorts and trainers, the white T shirt she wore clinging to her. Even with a sports bra on he could see the peaks of her nipples. He imagined how they'd taste now, all salty and drenched in sweat. His body reacted forcibly to the image and he took a sharp intake of breath.

She regarded him for a moment and frowned. Her eyes lingered on the front of his pants for a millisecond. He looked like he both wanted to devour her but also afraid to move.

"Really? You like me like this? All sweaty?" she said, a hint of a smile covering her face.

"I like you every way," he replied honestly. "And I'm sorry about earlier, you have every reason to be annoyed."

She shrugged, "Doesn't matter. I know all this must be difficult for you." She took a breath and smiled sincerely at him. "I'll take that shower now, be out in a little while."

* * *

She came out of the bathroom just before eight dressed in a slim fitting knee length midnight blue cocktail dress. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in delicate waves, its ends still a little damp. She'd worn more mascara than her daytime look and had used a darker, smokier eye shadow that accentuated the greenness of her eyes. A dark red lipstick stained her lips. It was obvious she'd taken care in her appearance but had veered away from harsh blush or overstated jewellery. Subtly elegantly sexy, Jane supposed he'd name it as he viewed her as she put on three inch black heels. "Wow," he said from the bed, switching off the television.

She smiled at him, "Thanks. You're not looking so bad yourself. I like that shirt on you."

He chuckled as he got off the bed.

"Why is that funny?"

He shook his head, pecked her crimson lips. "No reason."

* * *

The hotel restaurant, in contrast to their dreary compact room, was romantic. Darkened with burgundy coloured walls and intimate booths decked out with flickering ivory coloured vanilla scented candles, they were shown to one near a window where they could see the last rays of the sun setting, ever changing orange and yellow hues splashed on the grey and pale blue canvas before them. A sole pianist played Debussy's Clair de lune as Jane slipped his hand into hers across the table. They sipped on an expensive bottle of Cabernet. He said nothing but looked into her eyes, his piercing gaze of appreciation enough to bring more than a wine induced colour to her cheeks.

As they ate dinner talk turned to Jane's daughter. Lisbon asked, "So, do you think she'll like me?"

He looked up from his fillet mignon with a smile. "Why wouldn't she?"

"I'm not around a lot of children every day. I-I'm not entirely how I should interact with her. You'll need to give me some tips."

He laughed as he picked up his glass. "She's just a five year old, Teresa, not an alien from another planet. You'll be fine." He smirked, "I'll talk you up, in any case. And knowing Charlotte, you'll be lucky to get two words in as soon as you cross the threshold. She'll have a million questions for you, most of them probably highly inappropriate."

"Oh, so she takes after her father in that regard then, I see."

"Meh, I blame her grandmother for her nosiness."

"Yeah, like you're a shrinking violet yourself."

* * *

After their dinner plates were cleared away and encouraged with some liquid courage she leaned over and placed a hand on his thigh. "Ready to get out of here?" she whispered in his ear.

He swallowed as her fingers slowly edged upwards. "You don't want dessert? The chocolate soufflé looks excellent," he nodded towards a couple at the other end of the dining room sharing one together.

"You're really choosing chocolate soufflé instead?" she said, her nails biting gently into his thigh.

"Just choosing it first, not instead. Come on, it looks delicious."

She rolled her eyes and brought her hand back to her wine glass, downing its contents.

He placed a hand on hers. "Just be a little more patient, all right?" He smirked. "It'll be worth it, I promise. I'm good, quite excellent in fact."

"I'm sure _you_ think you are," she smirked right back.

He laughed and moved his hand to her knee underneath the table, brushing his fingers gently under the hem of her dress and tracing a circular pattern on the inside of her upper thigh with his thumb, just out of reach of where he knew she wanted it to be. "You want me to prove it right here? You might put the pianist off his sheet music."

"You're a son of a bitch sometimes," she breathed as a ragged breath escaped her.

Jane removed his hand with a soft chuckle and waved to the waiter to order dessert.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This chapter is pretty much all M rated.**

 **Please skip to the last section for the storyline part if that doesn't interest you (you should get the gist of what transpired in the M part if you only read that but it'll make more sense if you read through, I think). Struggled with this chapter for what seemed like weeks and still not happy with it entirely but just had to post it finally to get it out of the way so I could move on. More action of another kind coming up next chapter - should be quite an emotional one...**

* * *

Chapter 10 - New Sensations

He attacked her lips in the elevator, sliding his fingers through her dark curls. She tasted of chocolate and red wine and he groaned as he trailed kisses down the curve of her neck.

He'd made her wait in the restaurant, watched as she bit down her frustration. He'd distracted her with dessert, not entirely sure why. Nerves had played their part certainly. He'd acted brash and full of himself, his usual recourse when most unsure. But acting that way only made the reality more terrifying and he kicked himself for his bravado.

He was afraid to disappoint her. He was afraid of not being able to anticipate her needs. He'd told her he was a psychic once. She knew he could read people. Was she expecting him to have some superhuman power where seduction was concerned when he took her to bed? He'd had few lovers before Angela. Then just her for years. Of the two of them, Teresa was likely to be the more experienced. In variety, anyway.

But then he saw her take mouthful upon mouthful of the soufflé and he'd been transfixed on her tongue as it swept across her lips as she ate, accompanied by the little keening noises of approval she made.

She wasn't purposefully trying to taunt him which only made him more aroused.

In the end, by the time their plates were removed, he was too hungry for her to care about anything other than being with her. He stopped thinking about the after or even the during - he'd follow his instincts, his mind was too hazy with lust to do much else anyway.

* * *

"Patrick," she gasped as he nipped at the skin at the base of her neck playfully, her fingers skimming over his chest.

By the time they made it to the room he pinned her against the door as soon as they were inside, kissing her like his life depended on it. He drew back, breathless, and looked into her eyes. They were brimmed with desire but more than that he read trust in them and undiluted affection. Did he see love in them for him too? No, he told himself immediately as his heart rate skyrocketed, it was far too soon for that. Wasn't it? He caught his breath, overcome with the emotions he felt upon seeing her so unguarded, so honest, so very...his.

He kissed her again, softer and more tenderly and felt her respond in kind as she melted against him, giving all of herself to him. Another torrent of emotions hit him and he grasped her tighter in his arms. He wasn't sure how to categorise how he felt. Overwhelmed, lucky, grateful, terrified...all of those and more too he had trouble identifying as he kissed the crook of her neck and felt her breasts heave against his chest.

He continued kissing her neck as his fingers went to work on the zipper of her dress. Hers automatically went to his belt in response. "No," he said softly. "Please, allow me first."

She nodded and allowed her arms drop to his sides again. He was appreciative she was willing to give up control for him, that she'd allow him to take charge on this occasion. She understood it had been so long since he'd undressed and savoured a woman that he wanted and needed to do just that and at his own pace before he became selfish with desire for his own gratification.

He unzipped her dress painfully slowly, fingers trembling as they traced bare skin in their wake. She wasn't wearing a bra and he sighed into her mouth as he took control of a long kiss. Her hands looped around his neck, playing with the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck.

The dress pooled on the floor below her and he disengaged his mouth, eager to see her nearly naked form. She kicked the dress away and he gazed at her standing there, alabaster skin pebbled with occasional freckles that somehow reminded him of pretty seashells and wearing nothing except black lace panties and three-inch heels. His mouth went dry as he gazed at rosy-tipped nipples, already hard and begging to be kissed.

"Jesus," he breathed, shaking his head, "you're even more beautiful than I imagined," he said, hoarseness in his voice. "Just a second, don't move," he added, the dryness of his mouth making speech difficult. He moved backwards and she frowned. He lifted a bottle of water from beside the bed and almost downed it in one as he continued to look at her. She laughed, "Cat got your tongue, huh, well, that's a new one."

His expression darkened and her skin lit up with goosebumps as she saw the desire in his eyes. "Please turn around and face the door," he all but ordered her, his tone low and barely controlled.

He hadn't been sure he would have been able to stop himself from resisting her for any length of time if he'd had to keep looking at her front. Her dark emerald eyes, lipstick smeared lips, swollen and bruised through their kisses, her breasts, pale and round and perfect, her stomach, flat and toned...it was too much for his senses all at once. He'd been in the desert too long and he was in danger of drowning now he'd found the idyllic oasis that was Teresa Lisbon.

* * *

Had it been anyone else she would have felt self-conscious of being so openly ogled and would have probably told them to go to hell for telling her what to do but with him, with that tinge of desperation in his strangled voice, it only made her feel unbelievingly sexy and even more turned on. It hadn't sounded liked an order to her ears, more like a beseeching plea.

She'd take control back when the time was right. Later. She licked her lips in anticipation. But she had to admit, although she would never do so openly to him, compared to previous lovers she'd taken, it was a nice change of pace for her to have someone else calling the shots in the bedroom right out of the gate.

Slowly she turned until she faced the door.

* * *

He moaned silently. The view from the back, her pert backside, encased in black, wouldn't make it easy for him either. He was going to struggle either way.

A second later his hot breath whispered across her shoulderblade before he kissed it, his tongue sweeping out and quickly tasting her flesh. His hands were set at her sides, shaking as they slowly trailed upwards.

Instead of curling towards her breasts he diverted them to her upper arms, stroking them gently and peppering them with kisses. Every movement of his was painstakingly slow and she groaned with impatience. Then suddenly he took hold of her wrists gently in his hands and moved her hands so her palms splayed against the door at either side of her body. He placed his own on top of them and intertwined their fingers against the wood. She gasped as he slid his nose down the indentation at the centre of her back, tickling her skin, his mouth open and his kisses more insistent and full of want.

"Is this how you tackle suspects?" he asked, his voice amused and like honey as he moved to kiss her other shoulder, his hands still on hers against the door, his front against her back.

"If I did Professional Standards would have had me fired for it a long time ago," she came back with, bending her neck to the side so he could uncover more skin to caress with his lips.

He chuckled against her skin and a fresh batch of goosebumps made her moan as his mouth tickled her. "Patrick, oh god," she whispered.

He slid his hands away from hers and caught her sides again. She turned her head and they kissed as his left hand ascended to embrace a breast as the other moved to the waistband of the thin fabric of her panties. His fingertips ghosted over her nipple and she arched her back into him with a garbled moan. He grasped her breast fully, squeezing it, his breath accelerating as he felt its soft fullness in his hand. He rolled the nipple between his fingers, testing what she liked, learning what made her breathing become shallow, adjusting the pressure and pace and then adjusting again until she was all but purring against him.

His right hand descended across the woven black fabric, over the thin patch of coarse hair he could feel beneath it as he trailed his index finger to the apex of her thighs. He found her hot and wet for him through the cloth, an invitation to explore. He groaned as she attacked his lips with hers again, slipping his fingers under the thin material. She bucked against him as he rubbed her tantalisingly slowly at first with his middle finger, his fingertip sliding back and forth in upwards and downwards motions against her labia in subtle barely there touches. He engaged his thumb, pressing it just higher and rubbing small circles with increasing pressure as he felt her writhe against his erection.

He continued, his mind awash with new knowledge with every slick stroke and every pass of his fingers across her nipple. He felt her struggle against him, her muscles tighten under his hand as he continuously corrected and counter corrected until he could read her body like he could read a face. He teased her then, making his movements just off to where she wanted them most, dipping his finger into her then just as quickly removing it again, time and again. He didn't want this moment to end and he wanted to draw out her orgasm like no man ever had before.

"Goddamnit," she muttered under her breath.

He chuckled and kissed her earlobe. "Patience, woman." He was relaxed now, knew they were more than compatible sexually (like there ever had been any doubt), knew he could please her.

Sensing she was about to veer from the point of being incredibly aroused to incredibly annoyed within seconds he removed his hand from her underwear. She turned immediately and grabbed his shoulders, backing further against the door as she pulled him nearer as his lips found hers. They kissed frantically as her hands flew to his belt buckle. "Not yet," he breathed, almost out of air. She groaned in frustration. His lips travelled to her breasts.

He breathed out upon seeing one rosy nipple. He licked his lips and took it into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and biting on it gently. She moaned and gathered his hair in her hands as he uncovered the other one and gave it the same attention.

His mouth traversed to her navel and he licked its hollow centre, his fingers looping around the waistband of her panties on either side. He pulled them down quickly and breathed in her scent audibly. "Christ," he exhaled, unaware he'd spoken out loud.

He looked up at her, green blue eyes pleading.

She shot him a look back that asked him if he was stupid.

He grinned, closed his eyes and flicked his tongue out. He tasted her.

* * *

Her head rolled back against the door with a soft thud as his tongue entered her. She felt his hands on her hips, slight tremors in his fingers the only indication of his lack of confidence. She listened to his breathing, his soft moans of ecstasy as they intermingled with her own. She had been brought to orgasm many times, more often than not by her own hand, but none had come close to the overwhelming depth of emotion she felt as Patrick continued to use his mouth on her. She felt him become more confident to tease her more, to make her feel like she was about to explode before he pulled her back from the brink time and time again. He was a quick study in learning what she liked and disliked and apparently ravenous to learn all that he could. She could sense how long it had been since he'd been so intimate with someone, could sense his almost childlike wonder in bringing this latent talent back to life again and in igniting feelings in her she never thought were possible.

"Now," she whispered. "I want you now," she told him, barely able to breathe.

"Not yet," he said, licking her before probing her with his tongue again.

She almost rolled her eyes but then they fell back in her head as he sped up his actions. Out of nowhere, her muscles tightened inexplicably quickly and she let out a silent gasp as an orgasm took hold of her. Then his lips moved quicker still, kissing her roughly while he grazed the sweet bud of her clitoris with his teeth then soothing it with his tongue. He added a finger to elongate her pleasure, then another as his mouth ascended to her stomach, pressing urgent kisses upwards to it and then her breasts, his fingers continuing to masterfully stimulate her core. She banged her head against the door as he moved to kiss her mouth and took hold of his arm barely able to respond, her fingers digging into the cloth of his jacket until she wasn't sure where one orgasm stopped and another started. He kissed her ear, the sensitive spot just below it. "Holy crap!" she breathed, her face contorted as she rode out the euphoria that swept through her.

He kissed her cheeks ardently, the corner of her mouth, her forehead, her hair as she came down. Finally, he pulled his hand away and rested it on her hip. He kissed her lips tenderly. "Okay?" he asked.

She opened her eyes and blinked wildly to see him smirking at her. This time, she did roll her eyes, saw him dazzle her with a smile.

She took a deep breath. Then, without warning, she pushed the jacket off his shoulders and kissed him hungrily as she shoved him towards the bed. He tumbled onto it awkwardly with her half on top on him. She pulled him up again to make short work of his vest and shirt and threw them on the floor behind her, dragging the shirt off him without undoing its buttons before pushing him back to the mattress again. She kissed his chest as she knelt beside him and he cradled her head in his hands as he looked at the ceiling, his breathing erratic. She made it to his belt buckle and pulled at it with irritation, slipping it through its loops and throwing it next to the other discarded garments. She kissed him again as she undid his button and pulled down his zipper, could feel the bulge at the front of his boxers. She touched it with her index finger and his body jerked in reaction immediately along with a hiss of approval.

She giggled and quickly divested him of his pants, socks and shoes. He held himself up on his elbows and laughed as she went to work on undressing him like some kind of whirling dervish.

"Playing hard to get, I see," he remarked as he saw her scramble beside him again, kissing his chest until she made it to his mouth. He took her face in his hands and kissed her slowly then, trying to slow things down so they could both catch their breaths.

He turned her onto her back and kissed her again, his eyes raking over her naked form leisurely.

She looked up at him as she breathed heavily, her breasts bouncing slightly, bright green trusting eyes circling his face expectantly. He ran the pad of his thumb down her cheekbone as he gazed at her, naked skin against naked skin touching for the first time. She ran a leg up his calf and moved so their lower bodies aligned against each other. Her nails trailed over his back, grazing it gently in soft sweeping patterns. He rubbed against her experimentally, his hips swaying closer to her heat.

Back and forward. Up and down. Back and forward. Up and down.

His erection responded eagerly. She kissed him with such tenderness he thought he might cry. She spoke quietly as if speaking louder would scare him away.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

He kissed her silently, nuzzled a breast as he continued his slow rocking.

He nodded. A stray tear escaped. "Perfect," he smiled.

"Then take your boxers off," she grinned.

He laughed then embarrassment swept across his face. "I-uh...I'll just be a second."

He went to move to get the condoms from his bag but she held onto him. "I'm on the pill."

He frowned. "Yes, I know."

"How did you know that?"

He shrugged. "The reminder you set on your phone every day."

She shook her head slightly at him. She'd have the discussion about why he was looking at her phone reminders another time. Right now the only thing she wanted was sex, not an argument.

She turned her voice soft again. "So, we can...well, we do without them if you want."

He blinked twice rapidly.

"I'm always careful, Patrick. If you're worried about..."

"I'm not," he interrupted. "I know you'd never...well, that you'd always take double precautions. And you'd never miss a check up, in any case." He furrowed his brow. "But with me...with me, you don't want to use them?"

"It's not like I have to worry about a string of women you might have been with lately, is it?" she smiled.

He shook his head. "No. Definitely not."

At his continuously perturbed expression, she said, "Look, if you want to use them it's fine, go ahead. I just...well, this is different, isn't it? Us I mean? I just thought...well...never mind...Really." She smiled brightly. "Go get one. Hurry up."

He nodded and kissed her quickly, rolling off her to the edge of the bed. But instead of getting up to get his bag he sat there, his back to her, staring ahead.

She sidled over, placed a palm on his back. "What's wrong?"

He breathed deeply and shook his head. He said nothing for a long moment.

"I-I can't do this," he said so quietly she had to strain to hear him. He hung his head then got off the bed. "Not tonight...not...right now. I'm sorry, Teresa," he added, barely looking at her dumbfounded expression while he quickly put his pants back on.

"What?!" she replied in a whisper, shaking her head.

He slipped his shoes on, foregoing his socks as he hurried to redress. He looked at her naked form, her questioning and undeniably hurt gaze, then looked away. He licked his lips. "I-I need some air," he managed to get out as he pulled his shirt back on. "I'll be back soon," he added as he grabbed the keycard and all but ran from the room.

The door slammed shut behind him and Lisbon fell back against the bed. "Oh crap," she muttered, putting her hand across her eyes as she sighed.

* * *

She heard the keycard slip into the slot, the short beep as he opened the door quietly. She lay in bed dressed in a spare white T-shirt she'd brought with her, the red letters of the alarm clock beside her telling her it was 1.58am. He'd been gone for two hours.

It was dark and she heard him stumble slightly as he tripped over something. She turned the light on beside her and he looked up, moving her heels to the side. "Hey, I thought you'd be asleep by now," he said softly, a nervous smile on his lips.

"Is that why you waited until this time to come back?"

His shoulders sagged and he shrugged. He sat down on the bed next to her. "I'm sorry," he said with another shrug. "I didn't realise the time."

"Where were you?" she asked with concern. He looked so bereft and alone she couldn't be angry with him.

"Just walking," he sighed. "There's a pebbled beach quite near so I sat there for a while. Just had to gather my thoughts." He smiled and touched her hand that was on top of the covers, playing with her fingertips lightly. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"I'm only upset because you wouldn't talk to me about whatever changed your mind. I know you're bound to be nervous. But...but then you seemed so sure..."

"Oh, I was. More than sure."

"And then? I know...I know I must have said or done something. Something to do with the damn condoms. I-I should have kept my big mouth shut about them."

He smiled and intertwined their fingers. He went to say something then stopped. Took another breath and started again. "It surprised me, what you said."

"It was just a suggestion. But why...why did it upset you so much? Or was it your wife you were thinking of? Guilt about moving on from her? Talk to me, Patrick."

"Yes and no," he answered cryptically. He brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed them gently before releasing them. He intertwined his fingers in front of him. "When you suggested that it became more real to me. Us, I mean. I-I know it is real, of course, it is. And I want that. Please don't think that I don't want you or don't want this because of my actions tonight. Because I do. I really do want this, Teresa."

His tone was full of urgency and she took one of his hands, stroking it gently to calm him. "I want this too. So tell me what we need to do to fix this."

He laughed softly. "Ever practical."

She shrugged. "Go on, there's more you want to say."

He clicked his tongue as he thought.

"Patrick, whatever it is, just tell me. I don't need for it to be wrapped up in some pretty bow. If it's bad I'd rather just hear it straight out."

He smiled at her and nodded. "Of course you would. Okay. It's not bad, though. Or, at least, I don't think it is. I suppose I've been drifting along with this, this thing between us. Enjoying the flirting, the affection, the getting to know you. I've loved it all. I've loved...I...love-"

He broke off and took a deep breath. "Christ, I wish we'd just had sex after that first dinner together."

Lisbon drew her head back. "What?"

"When you invited me in for tea after I dropped you off."

She reddened. "Yeah, for tea. Nothing else."

He smirked. "We both know it wasn't tea you were offering that night, my dear."

The flush continued to spread across her face. "What's your point?" she stammered.

He chuckled softly before becoming serious again. "If we had had sex that night then it would have just been that. Sex between two people who were attracted to each other. Whereas now..."

"It would still have just been sex tonight. You're thinking about it too much. Reading too much into what doing it means for us. It's just sex, Patrick."

"Hmm. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe you're thinking too little about what it means."

She troubled her bottom lip. "When I'm in the mood for sex I'm not really thinking much at all. It's kind of the point."

He laughed and shrugged, conceding she may have a valid point. "Yeah, I noticed."

She said, "You seemed to be fine with it then suddenly you weren't. What was it about what I said that scared you off?"

He bit his lower lip. "You asked if I felt guilty about moving on from my wife. Well, the truth is...the truth of the matter is that when I'm with you...when I'm with you I rarely think about her. And tonight...when I saw you against that door...when I...tasted you...you were all I thought about. All I wanted was you, Teresa. I was consumed by it wholly. Consumed by you."

Her blush reappeared as she recalled his hot breath on her skin, his mouth expertly coaxing her to orgasm. Heat pooled in her and spread through her body with a frisson of lust at the recollection.

He continued, "I never imagined finding that thirst for someone again. But still, I never thought about her...just you."

She frowned and he nodded, telling her he was coming to the point. "Then you mentioned not using protection and I-"

"Panicked. It was too much, I pushed you too far. Made sex even more important in your head."

"Yes, partly that. But mainly...mainly the...the last time a woman suggested we didn't use protection was when my wife I decided to try for Charlotte. And that's when I started thinking about my wife. All of a sudden a vision of her hit me and there you were lying there before me...so beautiful and so ready. And so was I. And then...well, then, like you said, I panicked. Felt a tonne of guilt hit me that here I was moving on and well, there she was..."

Lisbon squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh god, I'm such an idiot. I never thought-"

Softly, "Hey, there's no reason why you would and you have nothing to apologise for." He took both her hands in his. "I'm just sorry I bolted. It's kind of what I do when things get to me."

"Well, you came back. Just don't do it again."

"You think I'd leave you here stranded?"

She smiled, "You know I'd hunt you down and kill you if you did."

He smiled broadly. "That I do."

He bent over and kissed her tentatively on the lips. Nervously, "You want out of this? I'd understand. I'm quite the mess."

"Do you?" she asked him seriously.

He looked into her eyes and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "Nope."

"Good." She unsuccessfully tried to stop a grin from forming. She sighed. "Come on then, it's late. Come to bed. We'll talk about this again in the morning if you want."

His tongue wavered across his bottom lip. She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I'm not going to pounce on you. I'm exhausted. Besides..." She smiled triumphantly, "I'm not the one who'll lie there frustrated. I'm quite content thanks to earlier."

He nodded seriously but with a hint of a cocky smile in his eyes. "So that's my punishment for leaving you for a couple of hours, is it?"

"Yep," she pecked his lips and lay down under the covers, bringing them up to her chin.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This chapter is slightly M rated the** **first** **section.**

* * *

Chapter 11 - Snapshots

Patrick Jane was fairly well accustomed to hair tickling his face first thing in the morning.

Or fur.

Sometimes.

Charlotte occasionally crept into his bed at night if she had a nightmare, usually accompanied by her favourite stuffed animal of the moment. On one occasion she'd brought with her an ugly devil creature of a doll with wild red hair and black staring eyes that she'd inexplicably grown attached to. He'd hated that thing and the sight of those dead eyes as he opened his first thing staring back at him had almost given him a heart attack.

So when he scrunched up his nose as he woke up as he felt something irritate it his immediate thought was that his daughter had crawled in beside him as he slept. But, this time, as he opened his eyes blearily it wasn't fine golden locks that were the cause of his awakening. Or, thankfully, a Satanic doll.

He blinked. Chestnut waves in his eye line and cinnamon scent hit him immediately. Teresa. Of course.

She was tucked up against his back. Or, more likely, he'd spooned her during the night. He sighed contentedly and adjusted his eyes to the burgeoning light of the bedroom. He raised himself up slightly to read the clock. Seven forty-two. He moved closer, dropping a kiss to her hair as he pulled her against him, rested his hand on the flat plane of her stomach just under where her T-shirt had ridden up. He closed his eyes, rubbing small circles across its smooth skin. His next thought was that he could get used to this, waking up next to her every day.

She murmured softly, still asleep, placed a hand on top of his, grinding against him a little.

His body responded immediately and he rocked against her ass instinctively, inwardly groaning.

They'd cuddled the night before after he'd come to bed in his boxers and a pale green T-shirt. It had felt wonderful to hold her against him like that, kiss her hair, her lips, run his fingers over her soft skin in the dark. They'd gone no further than that when sleep claimed them. She'd stuck to her word, had almost acted shyly as if they were virgins on their wedding night. He wasn't sure if it was a punishment to keep matters so chaste or fear he'd scarper again if she allowed him more than that. She'd held his hand in hers until they'd fallen asleep. He had no idea if it was an act of comfort or a way of keeping it from wandering over her body. Or keep him from wandering, period.

There was still so much to learn about her and he somehow doubted he ever would. And he was inordinately pleased that was the case. As much as he wanted to know everything so he could predict what she might like or might think, he still wanted to be surprised occasionally. He had read people his whole life. And those he could not, or at least could not consistently, was something of a rare occurrence. With her, although an open book with her directness, she was still somewhat of a mystery to him. She'd surprised him the evening before when he'd returned. She had a fierce temper and he expected to be blasted by her, perhaps even dumped on his ass for running out at such a moment.

But instead, she'd coaxed him into admitting the truth of how he felt. She hadn't looked at him as a pitiful soul, he'd saw none of that in her expression. Just pushing him with her no-nonsense approach and those beautiful compassionate eyes of hers had made him open up to her willingly.

He moved some hair from her neck and pecked it tenderly. A soft moan escaped her, enticing him to do it again. He swept his tongue across a freckle and her butt ground into him again. He closed his eyes, pushing back and stifled a moan of his own as he felt the curve of her buttocks writhe against him. He took a breath, deciding how to proceed. She'd be awake soon. What if he wasn't able to follow through again? And as understanding as she had been, he was on thin ice with her, surely. One more strike and he might just be out.

She moaned again and pulled his hand in her sleep, encouraging him to rub against her. He had two options. Get up for the cold shower to end all cold showers or stay in bed with a beautiful woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Well, when he thought about it like that there really was no decision to be made at all.

"Oh Christ, here I go," he breathed. He kissed her neck again as he continued to grind against her ass. "Teresa," he said in her ear, dropping a kiss on it. She smiled at the sound of his voice and cracked an eyelid open. He kissed her neck again, speeding up his moments below. She opened both eyes and breathed slowly and seductively, releasing her hand from his to feel him behind her. He took a sharp intake of breath as she took him in her hand through his boxers, stroking him gently. He placed a hand on her hip to establish a rhythm as he kissed her jawline and across to her cheek.

But the angle was all wrong to kiss her lips how he wanted so he rolled her over towards him and kissed her fully. Neither was worried about morning breath as it continued and deepened. He brushed his fingers across her abdomen, moving them higher until they found a breast under her T-shirt.

She moaned into his mouth, taking control of his length again and stroked it harder, faster. They opened their eyes after their kisses and she stared at him, a question in her eyes. His eyes glinted mischievously and she grinned then ran her tongue across her top lip.

As they kissed again and he traced his fingers across her nipple in slow featherlight patterns, she dipped her hand inside his boxers and he let out a strangled hiss like he'd just been doused in ice cold water. He shivered. But paradoxically he was hot in her grasp and his blood felt like it was ablaze and coursed through him like wildfire.

"Teresa," he breathed into her mouth, squeezing her breast harder as she continued to tease him.

He rolled over to his side and brought him with her as they continued. His hand fell to her hip and then under her panties at her backside. He was grasping at her now as she was at him, their movements uncoordinated. He grunted as he pulled her core towards his erection, his fingers digging into her ass cheek to get her closer and closer. She tugged on his hair with her free hand while the other grabbed his upper arm to create more friction below. They kissed continuously, barely able to draw apart for air.

He dragged the cotton of her panties down frantically only making it to her knees before he shuffled on the bed to remove his boxers.

She laughed at his clumsiness as it took him a couple of attempts to remove them. "Woman," he warned her with a shake of his head and a grin at his predicament.

She giggled and helped him out of them then took off her panties completely as he removed his T-shirt and her own before they kissed again. He took a breath as he hovered over her. His eyes circled her face and then she narrowed hers at him, green emeralds staring back at him, nervous and questioning.

A slow grin spread across his face and she let go of a breath of relief. "Just burning the moment into my memory palace, absolutely not having second thoughts," he told her softly before dropping a kiss to her lips.

She beamed back at him and wrapped her arms around his neck as they kissed again. He licked his lips and tentatively felt her wet heat against him, her moan in response sending a shiver up his spine. His eyes darkened as he ran his fingers over his glistening penis as she wrapped her legs either side of him in readiness.

"Room service!"

Lisbon jerked back in the bed away from him like a rabbit, startled by the loud knock on the door that accompanied the man's booming voice outside.

Jane jumped too, then frowned and looked at the clock. "You've got to be kidding me," he groaned, faceplanting into the sheet beneath him.

The knock came again. "Sir? Madam?"

"We didn't order anything," Lisbon whispered, whisking the sheet up to cover her breasts in case the man outside the door decided to enter unannounced.

"I did," came the muffled reply beside her.

"What? When?"

He shook his head as he looked up at her, defeat in his eyes. "Yesterday."

He looked down at his erection, still hard. "Would you mind getting the door?" he said, dragging himself up to the pillow and flopping his head onto it with an irritated sigh, pulling another pillow from behind his head to cover his groin as he sat up.

As much as she was frustrated the sight of him even more so made Lisbon smile. "Problem?" she sniggered at the pillow across his lap.

He shot her a look of contempt that made her laugh out loud. "Be right there," she called brightly to the door, taking pleasure in his...rather obvious...displeasure. A small part of her was still mad at him for the night before, it appeared, and was enjoying getting some payback even if it cost her too.

She rushed to redress in her T-shirt and panties and threw a pair of yoga pants on over them as she got the door, still giggling.

* * *

They sat on the bed nestled against their pillows, the breakfast tray settled between them. There was barely enough room to walk about the room, never mind place a table and chairs in it.

Lisbon sighed happily and closed her eyes as she sipped her coffee, curling and uncurling her bare toes with a contented hum of approval.

Jane bit into a croissant and watched her, almost spilling the tea he'd propped up in his lap.

"Are you purposefully trying to torture me?" he asked her finally. She was practically purring as she drank her first cup of Joe of the day.

"Huh?" she asked, placing the cup on the nightstand beside her to lean over and slather butter on a piece of toast.

"Your first caffeine fix... does it always make you so...?"

She grinned as she noticed his increasing discomfort and eyes that were shining with arousal. So...what?"

He shrugged and sighed, shoving a piece of croissant into his mouth. Grumpily, "I don't know...delectable?"

She laughed and kissed him quickly. "I don't think I've ever been referred to as delectable in my life."

"What?! A tragedy!" he gasped, clutching his chest theatrically, and beginning to laugh along.

As he began to enjoy his breakfast more, she asked, "So, when did you order breakfast yesterday?"

He picked up his cup to take a sip. "When you went for your run."

"Ah, trying to make it up to me, were you?"

"Hmm."

"You almost did this morning," she smirked. "In fact, if you hadn't ordered the breakfast-"

"Yes, I am aware of the rather tragic sequence of events with the now rather dubious gift of hindsight," he interrupted. He shook his head and smiled, shooting her a knowing look. "Now I know you're just trying to torture me, my dear. Cut it out. Give a poor man a break."

She laughed as his phone buzzed beside him, alerting him to a text message.

He picked it up and a soft smile fell upon his lips.

"Charlotte?" Lisbon asked with a similar expression.

He nodded, swiping his fingers across the screen. His smile continued as he looked at it. "Yes, how did you know?"

"You have this look on your face when you talk about her, the same look I see now."

He glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "I do? What look is that?"

She shrugged, "I dunno...goofy?"

Both his eyebrows quirked up. "Goofy?"

She bit her bottom lip and giggled. "Well, yeah."

He shook his head at her. "Sometimes I wonder why I like you, you know that?"

He went back to his phone again, muttering, "Goofy? Never been called goofy in all my life."

"Is everything okay?" she asked, still smiling, popping a piece of mango from the fruit salad supplied into her mouth.

He nodded, "Yeah, everything's good. The woman in charge knows I'm a little more protective than most parents so I asked her to keep me updated. She sent me some photographs." He leaned over to show Lisbon a photograph of his daughter on his phone.

She smiled immediately upon seeing a blonde girl beaming a smile to the camera. She had her father's smile, that was certain. When she got older the boys would stand no chance and she'd have them vying for her attention. Even those her age were probably already under her spell if she had his charm and intelligence too. Although still nervous at the thought of meeting her, she was now a lot less terrified by the prospect. She knew Jane would do everything he could to make the meeting go smoothly for both their sakes.

She said, "She looks like she had fun last night. What is that on her face?"

"Looks like marshmallow and chocolate, I think," he grinned.

"Ah, smores, of course. Can't go camping without them. I love smores."

"Who doesn't?" He continued to look at the photograph, an increasingly wistful expression falling across his features.

"You okay?" she asked him softly.

He nodded and placed the phone back on the nightstand beside him, beamed a smile at her. "Of course." He pecked her lips quickly and poured himself more tea.

"You miss her," she stated quietly. "This morning, especially."

He shrugged, sighed. "Yeah...yeah, I do. Never had breakfast without her before. It's a little strange." He chewed on his lower lip for a second then added quickly, "Not that I regret being here with you-"

"It's okay. I know what you meant and it's perfectly understandable," she grinned, kissing him. He kissed her back, tenderly and slowly.

She drew back. "So let's get out of here and you back to her," she said, pecking his mouth.

"Are you sure? My mother was going to pick her up, give us a few more hours together."

Lisbon shook her head and looked around the room. "Nah, let's go back to Sacramento. I think this room is cursed." She smirked, "For you, anyway."

He laughed as he remembered the lack of consummation that had – or had not – occurred. "I don't normally believe in such things but you might just be right."

* * *

Tipping their bags into the car, Jane wandered around to take a seat behind the wheel. Lisbon turned to him. "So, I know it wasn't the getaway we had in mind but I had a good time. You?"

His eyes darkened and raked over her body encased in a white sundress. "There were certainly some highlights I'll remember fondly."

She blushed and whacked him on the arm and laughed. "I'm being serious-"

"Oh, so am I," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "What I meant was that...well, I think it's brought us closer, don't you think?"

He palmed her cheek and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, his accompanying look of affection speaking volumes.

As he started the engine, she added, "And I've come up with a solution should there be any other...missteps...where...well, you know what is concerned."

He smiled as he turned out onto the open road. "Oh? What's you plan?"

"I'm just going to ravish you when you least expect it," she said confidently.

He chanced a surprised look at her as she continued.

"I figure if I don't talk and I don't allow you time to think then we'll get over any little speedbump that might appear last minute."

"Ravish, huh?" he grinned. "Interesting choice of word. Think I like the sound of it."

"Thought you might."

"But I doubt there'll be a need. I was more than willing this morning if you didn't notice."

She smiled and bit down on her bottom lip. "Yes, I did."

He stopped at traffic lights and gazed at her side profile as she looked through a store window. His heart beat loudly in his chest as the wind whipped through her hair and he smelt her scent wash over him anew, her lips set in a smile and a dimpled cheek only just visible.

A realisation that had been building the past weeks hit him squarely.

For the second time in his life, he was in love.

* * *

Lisbon had dozed off on the way back to Sacramento as a comfortable silence presided over them and soft jazz playing on the radio. She jerked awake when she heard Jane kill the engine. She blinked open her eyes. "We here already?" she frowned, licking her lips. She looked around, noticing there were parked off the road in some kind of rest area.

"Not yet," Jane replied, kissing her quickly. "Fruit stand just up ahead. Come on, let's grab some before we get home."

He was out of the car and stretching his arms and shoulders after being stuck behind the wheel for two hours as she yawned. "Okay."

There was a short queue at the stall and Jane peered over the heads in front of them at the produce.

"What do you want?" he asked her. "Red delicious are your favourite, aren't they? You might be in luck."

When she didn't answer he noticed her face was set in a frown and she was checking something on her phone.

"You're not one of those Twitter people, are you?" he smirked, as her fingers moved furiously over the screen. "We might have to rethink things if you are," he joked. "When you start posting photographs of what you had for dinner then I'm afraid it's over, my dear."

"Ssh, Patrick," she said irritably, "I'm trying to check something."

He sighed and rolled his eyes then smiled as a customer was served and moved them further in line.

"Work, I take it," he said with more seriousness. "You don't have to go in, do you? It's your day off."

She touched his arm and spoke quietly. She nodded to a man two people in front. "See that guy up there?"

Jane furrowed his brow and nodded, "The one in the black T-shirt that's three sizes too small for him? Yes, what about him?"

She showed him a photograph on her phone. "Would you say that's the same guy?"

He looked at the phone then glanced at the man buying strawberries. "Yeah, he's grown a beard but it's him. Mole on the side of his neck is in the same spot as the photograph."

She frowned. "Damn, you're right. Didn't notice that."

"Who is he?"

She took a breath and put her phone away then rummaged in her purse for a gun.

"What the hell?" he whispered. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What do you think? I'm arresting him. BOLO went out on him a couple of weeks ago. Armed robbery on a warehouse. One dead and one in critical condition in the hospital."

As she went to move past him he grabbed her arm. Wide-eyed, "You-you can't. He's not planning on doing anything here. He just wants to buy fruit today, Teresa."

"Lucky for me that he did and that we stopped. It's my job, Patrick. Stay here. I'll be fine. I'll grab him when he's on his own just in case."

Panic settled in his gut. "Can't-can't you call backup or something?"

She looked at him like he had two heads and shook off his arm. "He's on his own and who knows where he's going next. I've already put in a request but he's leaving here now. I'll just keep him held here until they show up."

He watched her take a couple of steps away from him to keep watch on the man in front of them. As the bearded man moved away from the stall and Lisbon moved in time with him a few paces back, Jane watched open mouthed.

 _Just in case_. The words she'd said echoed in his ears as a feeling of sickness began to overwhelm him. He found himself stuck to the spot, his eyes darting back and forth between his girlfriend and the criminal she was about to arrest.

The scene unfolded in slow motion like he was watching a film.

As soon as the man with the beard moved away from bystanders she pulled the gun from her purse and pointed it at him.

Authoritavely, "James Kinley. CBI. Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees. You're under arrest."

The man blinked in surprise at the woman who was shouting at him in a white dress and who looked like she was going to a 4th of July picnic instead of acting like a cop. He didn't move.

"Now," she ordered him.

"Where's your badge?" he asked. "You could be anyone, lady. And even if you are who you say you are you got the wrong guy."

"I'm a cop. We can settle if I'm wrong or not when we get back to Sacramento. Get on the ground."

"I'm doing nothin' til you show me your badge."

Lisbon licked her lips and kept her gun trained on him, fumbling one handed in her bag for her I.D.

Jane noticed the briefest flicker of satisfaction in the other man's eyes as she was briefly distracted before James Kinley pulled a gun out from the back of his pants.

A scream went up in front of Jane and a mother pulled her son further away from the action. He barely noticed either as his pulse skyrocketed.

Lisbon put both hands back on her weapon. "Come quietly, James. No one needs to die today. Even if you shoot me you won't get far. My colleagues are on the way."

A glimmer of a smile ghosted across the other man's lips. Jane mouthed, "No," the word unable to make it out of his mouth audibly.

A shot fired. A man's voice. "I'll take my chance."

Lisbon fell to the ground but not before she got a couple of shots off, wounding the man in the leg and the arm he was holding the gun. He screamed and dropped his weapon as he hit the dirt. "You bitch!"

Jane was beside her before he knew he was moving. "T-Teresa," he stammered, his breath racing as he saw crimson soak through white across her shoulderblade and collarbone.

She scrunched up her face in pain. "Take his gun," she croaked as her eyelids fluttered. "Make sure he can't reach it."

Jane nodded and acted on instincts he never knew he had as he did as she asked, kicking the gun a metre away from the man writhing on the ground. He looked at James Kinley as a swell of anger engulfed him. He hadn't dared pick up the weapon in his hands, the temptation to finish him off was too great.

He turned back to Lisbon and tore off a piece of his T-shirt to apply pressure to the bleeding. The ground around her shoulder was saturated by now, its sandy tones dyed a dark brown like rust. She was pale already but she was losing blood fast and her skin looked more deathly even seconds later.

"You," he called to the fruit stand owner. "Call 911. Now. And keep an eye on that bastard."

He looked to the others in queue, each staring on with varying degrees of shock. "Is anyone here a doctor?"

He saw a young woman's eyes flit back and forth. "You," he shouted. "You a doctor?"

She shook her head furiously. "No-no. Veterinary student."

He rolled his eyes. "It'll have to do. Come here now, staunch the bleeding with me."

She stammered, "I-I just started my first semester last Fall."

"It'll be good practice then. Now," he said, leaving her no room for hesitation.

The young woman, who he learned was called Tracy Nichols, put up a valiant effort despite her initial reticence. But the bullet had inflicted a gaping wound that couldn't be treated without proper medical attention and Lisbon was drifting in and out of consciousness.

Jane held Lisbon's hand as he helped her breathe evenly as he waited for the ambulance to arrive. "You're going to be okay, you hear me?" he said, his voice quivering. "Stay with me. Don't leave me. Okay?"

Lisbon nodded. His sea green terrified eyes were the last thing she saw as she closed hers.

He closed his own and squeezed her hand fiercely as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"She's still alive," Tracy said to him gently. "She just passed out, Patrick."

He nodded. He knew that to be true.

But all he could think of was the last time he'd said those words to a woman as he held her hand and she fought desperately for her life, for their future together.

Unlike Angela, Teresa would live.

But something in his chest, something that was just being pieced together so carefully, had shattered into a million pieces all over again.

* * *

 **A/N: Yep, I'm that evil (Thay & Lili, you see I wasn't kidding). I did say there'd be a couple of bumps in the road. Don't fret, the story is not over yet! Hope you hang in there. Two chapters to go. **

**And the jibe about Twitter, well, I'm on there quite actively so hope that gives me license to poke a little fun about it.**

 **Thanks for all the reviews and new follows lately, really appreciate it.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - Pain

Lisbon woke to the incessant beep of a monitor at her side. A dull pain across her shoulder blade caused her to open her eyes with a grimace.

"You're awake," Cho said in his usual deadpan manner, sitting in a plastic chair beside the wall. He put away his book.

"I think I am," she frowned, her throat dry. She attempted to raise herself higher in the bed. "Damn it," she muttered when a shot of fire ran through her collarbone as she moved up on the pillow.

She looked around, coming to. "Kinley?"

Cho got to his feet and poured some water into a plastic beaker, handing it to her left hand that wasn't strapped up. As she sipped he replied, "Local PD came after you passed out and took him in. Transferred him to CBI. Rigsby and Van Pelt are questioning him now."

"Good."

"Lucky you came across him when you did."

She raised an eyebrow at him and then at her right shoulder. "Lucky, yeah. Did they operate?"

He nodded. "Yeah, they got the bullet out. Physical therapy's going to be a bitch for a few weeks but you were lucky."

"Yeah," she sighed at his second usage of the word in seconds. "Guess so."

She looked around the room again and licked her dry lips.

Cho said, "He went to see his daughter."

She nodded, "Right, of course. He called you?"

"Yeah. Left as soon as I got here. Said he'd be back in to see you later."

Nervously, "Just how bad a state was he in?"

Her second in command shook his head. "Not good. But trying to act like he was together."

She nodded sadly. "He's not used to all this stuff like we are."

"He's not a cop," he agreed, no more needing to be said between them.

"No, he certainly isn't," she sighed to herself more than to him, laying her head back on the pillow and reminded of Jane's face the last time she'd seen it, gaunt and terrified.

She took a deep breath. "You should get back to the CBI, Cho. Make sure Kinley''s case is tied up. I'll come in tomorrow and give my statement." She rolled her eyes. "Shooting Kinley means a damn psych session for me too."

The corners of his lips twitched upwards. "It's a slam dunk. Local PD got the names and addresses of witnesses and they've corroborated Jane's version of events."

"He gave his statement already?"

He nodded. "While you were in the operating theatre he wrote it all down, I suppose. Had it ready for me when I arrived."

It sounded like he was in a hurry to wrap things up and her stomach clenched as a sense of foreboding hit her. Or maybe, she considered optimistically, he was just trying to keep his mind busy to stop worrying about her when she was in surgery.

The door opened and Jane popped his head in.

To anyone who didn't know him better they'd suspect he was blasé. "Ah, you're awake then, are you? Thought I heard voices. Cho talking your ear off again, as usual, is he?" he quipped with a bright smile, grabbing a chair by the wall and pulling it closer towards the bed.

But Lisbon could see the worry behind his smile, the anguish in his eyes, the fear.

Cho huffed and smirked. "I'll get out of here. Rest up, boss. Van Pelt and Rigsby said they'd call in to see you later."

"Thanks, Cho."

"Anything that needs to be taken care of in the office?"

She frowned as she thought for a moment. "The Neihler case. It's ready to go to the DA's office. And send someone to talk to the wife in the Jackson case again, her statement seemed a little hinky to me, get them to press her about her credit card spending."

"Got it."

"Thanks. I'll be in tomorrow, anyway."

* * *

Their eyes met as Cho closed the door to their side.

"Still barking out orders from your hospital bed, I see. You really are a control freak," he smiled.

"You're one to talk," she came back with immediately, beaming one in his direction.

For a moment it seemed like everything was going to be okay, that they could joke their way through and avoid what needed to be said.

Then Jane released a breath and the silence extended to something altogether more uncomfortable.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her softly, dropping his bravado. It hadn't been a convincing show anyway. He joined his hands together and rested them on his thighs.

"Sore. But painkillers are pretty good nowadays," she smiled, noticing that he wasn't attempting to touch or kiss her. "I'm going to be fine, Patrick," she reassured him.

He nodded with little enthusiasm and looked to his lap.

She blinked back the tears that threatened. "How's Charlotte?" she attempted as cheerfully as she could manage. "Did she have a good time away?"

"Yeah," he said, the word coming out in a long breath. "She did. Thank you."

She heard him swallow thickly, his head still bowed.

"It's over between us, isn't it?" she asked him quietly after another second of silence.

He didn't move or respond for a couple of moments. Then he nodded. "I'm so sorry, Teresa," he whispered.

He looked up at her and wiped his cheeks, wet with tears. He took a shuddering breath. "I thought I could..."

"Act like things were okay between us until I recuperated?"

"Something like that. Or put it to the back of my mind. But I can't. I just can't forget seeing you like that. And lying to you that I was okay...well, I know that's the last thing you'd want."

"Well, you were right about that."

He sighed and shook his head. "I...I hadn't thought much about the job you do. I-I guess I fooled myself into believing you spent all that time in that office of yours or interviewing witnesses. I pretended to myself you weren't in danger every day. It was easier that way and I-I liked you so much. _Like_ you so much-"

She nodded and looked down. "I'd like you to go now," she said quietly.

He blinked. "Look, let me explain it better-"

"I really don't want to hear it," she said, raising her voice, the words angrier than she intended.

When she saw the pain in his eyes she shook her head, gathered herself together. "It's not the first time I've been dumped because of the job I do, Patrick. Don't worry about it. We had some fun, right?"

She was attempting laid back but it sounded bitter and they both knew it.

She was in danger of crying and she had never cried over a man in her life. She wasn't about to start with the one in front of her who looked like he was broken in two. Not in front of him, anyway.

"Can you please go now?" she said again, pulling her face into one made of stone. "Now," she ordered when he continued to sit there and stare at her with the saddest eyes she'd ever seen.

He got off the chair, its metal legs scraping across the tiled floor like chalk down a blackboard.

"Teresa," he said quietly as he took a step closer.

She panicked at the thought of him kissing her, touching her now. She would unravel if he did. He must have seen it in her eyes and pulled back. At least he was allowing her the dignity of not falling apart. Or, maybe, when she saw renewed tears glisten in his eyes, he was just as afraid of breaking down as she was if he did.

So they stayed there for an awkward second just looking at each other, pain and disbelief written in his features and stoicism and hurt across hers.

He let go of a ragged breath. "I'll go, then. I-I'll call back later...or tomorrow. Just to check on you-"

"No," she interrupted fiercely with a shake of her head. She let go of a breath. Quietly, "It's over so there's no point in dragging it out, is there?"

He licked his lips and nodded. "I guess not," he breathed. He looked up at her again and for a moment she thought he was about to ask if they could remain friends. But then he shook his head, dismissing the possibility before he'd even uttered it.

Maybe if they'd started out that way they could have been the best of friends for a long time. But they'd been attracted to each other from the first time they'd met and had acted on it. There was no coming back from that. Both of them would only always want more.

"Goodbye, Patrick," she said, forcing the words out through her throat that felt like cut glass.

He nodded. Quickly he dropped a whisper of a kiss to her forehead. "Goodbye, Teresa. I'm so sorry. You deserve so much better. I hope you find it someday."

* * *

He let himself into his house quietly and dropped his keys in the bowl by the front door. He entered the living room and sat on the couch, closed his eyes as he heard the sounds of his daughter upstairs being bathed, his mother's voice full of laughter as she tried to admonish her for splashing around.

He leaned forward and put his head in his hands, glanced at the photograph of his late wife on the mantelpiece between his fingers. He felt numb and bereft just like the day he lost her. On that occasion it had been a terrible twist of fate that had taken the woman he loved from him. This time, his heartbreak, as far as he was concerned, was entirely of his own making.

In his mind he talked to her, like he still did sometimes as if she were beside him. She predictably told him he had been an idiot and a coward.

He got up to make some tea, his fingers itching to keep busy, to stop him from thinking. He was back on the couch sipping it and flipping channels aimlessly on the television when he heard his daughter bounding down the stairs. He took a breath, put on his game face.

"Daddy!" she screamed, scrambling to sit beside him on the couch and snuggling up to him. "You missed bathtime," she admonished, cuddling into his chest as he wrapped one arm around her.

"Sorry, sweetie, had something to do." He kissed the top of her head, breathed in the scent of her pear shampoo.

She took the remote control off him and changed it to a children's show. As she giggled along watching it he told himself it was better this way. He could focus solely on Charlotte now. No more distractions. No more women with emerald eyes that took his breath away.

"Why are you sad?" she asked, suddenly looking up and screwing her face up at him.

He smiled at her, a brilliant but fake smile. "How could I be sad when I have you back where you belong, huh?"

He kissed her forehead, trying to fortify himself with the strength she gave him.

She looked at him, perplexed, confused by his words and the gut feeling she had. "Did you have a fight with your friend?" she continued.

"Sorry?"

"Grandma said you went to see your friend Teresa. Did you have a fight with her?"

He was lied to by his father many times. One rule he'd always stuck by was that he'd never do the same to his daughter. He might not always tell her the truth 100% but he would never blatantly lie to her if she asked him a direct question.

"Kind of," he said with a soft smile. "But don't worry about it, okay? So, yes, I'm a little sad tonight but I'll be better tomorrow. All right?"

"Was it your fault?"

She was killing him. He wished his mother would appear as she normally did at inopportune moments. But, for once, she was staying clear.

"Yes, it was, mostly," he admitted.

"Then you need to say sorry. That's what you told me to do when I fell out with Amy."

He rolled his eyes slightly. "And I was very proud of you for that. And I did apologise but...well, it's complicated, Charlie. Adults sometimes can't remain friends even after that sometimes."

She shrugged. "That's stupid," she said, tucking her head against his arm. "Why not? Don't you like her anymore?"

"I like her very much but..."

"It's complicated," she reiterated in a serious voice as she went back to watching television. He smiled lightly at her trying to work out the machinations of the adult mind. He wished he could have told her it'd all make more sense in time.

Alison Jane entered the living room and shot him a look that told him she'd overheard their conversation. Then shot him a look of annoyance. He felt like he was Charlotte's age again when she put her mind to giving him that rare glare that told him he'd screwed up royally. He rolled his eyes and tickled his daughter immediately, grabbing her in one swoop onto his shoulder.

"Okay, time for bed, young lady!" he laughed. It sounded hollow to his ears but his daughter squeals of delight made it almost like he could feel the joy in it. Almost.

* * *

"Don't start," he sighed as soon as he came back downstairs. His mother was sitting on the couch waiting for him, looking decidedly like she had just eaten something that made her sick.

It wasn't like she didn't know it was coming. After Teresa was shot he'd called her from the hospital and told her what had happened, asked her to pick Charlotte up and take her back to his house and that he'd be there when he could.

When he'd first arrived back home he'd called her from outside and got her to bring him out a fresh shirt before he went in. He hadn't wanted to scare his daughter with the blood soaked and torn up T-shirt he was wearing. Alison had hugged him fiercely but he'd stiffened in her arms, afraid he'd lose control of himself when his daughter was just inside.

"Patrick, it's okay to be upset," she'd said to him. "It's terrible what happened to her. It's okay to express your feelings, son. It's not weakness at a time like this."

He'd nodded quickly, barely looking at her or acknowledging her words as he brushed past her to put on the best performance of his life for his daughter.

When he'd told his mother he needed to go back to the hospital later she had brightened up, informed him that she'd go see Teresa the following day to check on her and to make sure to tell her that.

Then the look he'd shot her had made her flinch.

"Patrick, please don't do anything rash," she'd begged him. "She's a good woman. She's good for you."

"I know," he'd said with a sad smile. "But I'm not a good man, at least not for her."

He'd stumbled out without another word.

...

He took a seat on the couch beside her. "It was for the best," he said before she got a word out. "And I don't want to talk about it. So please leave it, mother."

"How do you expect me to do that?"

He snapped, "Because it's none of your damn business, that's why."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, Patrick Jane," she bit back. "I'm your mother, not a mark. I was married to your father for long enough, you think I don't know how to shout back?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed wearily. "Look, it's done. So just let it go like they say in that damn film Charlotte loves so much."

She softened her tone. "Is that why you did it? To protect Charlotte? To protect yourself? And what did you mean by that crack earlier, that you're not a good man. When will you realise you're not your father, Patrick? I swear if I could get my hands on that man now I'd kick his ass to Albuquerque for what he did to you."

He laughed softly then sighed deeply. "Promise you won't interfere. It's for the best."

"It's not the best for anyone. Especially you and Charlotte. You won't convince me otherwise."

He bent over and kissed her cheek, an apology for shouting at her. "I know that but tell me you'll leave it. I know what you're like. Because I'm not going to change my mind on the matter."

He got off the couch and added, "I'm heading to bed, see you in the morning."

She watched him go and shook her head. Under her breath, "You damn fool. We'll see about that."

* * *

Lisbon sighed as she entered her office three days later. She'd been allowed back to work following her mandatory psych counselling session but was on desk duty due to her injury.

Alison Jane was sitting on her couch, a box of pastries in her lap, steaming coffees beside her in a cardboard holder. "Teresa, sweetheart, how are you?"

Lisbon, startled by both her presence and her enthusiasm at eight am, stammered, "A-Alison, what are you doing here?"

The older woman held up the pastries. "Thought we should have a chat over coffee." She nodded towards the sling Lisbon wore. "How's your injury?"

Lisbon shrugged with her left shoulder. "It's fine. Look, I'm kinda busy-"

"Oh, come on, you have time for a coffee, surely?" the blonde woman smiled. She had her son's way of finagling into whatever situation suited her. She patted the seat cushion beside her.

Lisbon held back an eye roll and sat down, holding her knees close together, her hands tucked tightly between them. To say she was uncomfortable was an understatement.

"Patrick doesn't know I'm here," Alison said right away.

Lisbon nodded. It was hardly news to her. He'd kill his mother if he knew she was interfering.

"He'd kill me if he knew I was interfering."

Lisbon frowned; maybe she was getting some psychic twinges herself.

Alison continued, "Look, I'm not sure what happened exactly between you both but...is it really irreparable?"

Lisbon looked at the well intentioned if extremely nosey woman beside her. "I'm afraid it is. Look, it's not all his fault. I-I should have explained how my job works more-"

"You don't need to stick up for him for my sake, Teresa. He watches enough crime shows – well, he watches me watch them – so he knows how dangerous it is."

"Seeing it on television and right in front of your face is a different matter," Lisbon explained. "For one thing, blood doesn't look like tomato sauce. And he has good reason for being afraid of losing someone again. I should have thought about that more too before I dived in with two feet considering my line of work."

She sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's just...it's just I know he'll regret this. Maybe not yet – at the moment he's pretending that everything is peachy. He's spoiling Charlotte rotten. And doing that he's not doing her any favours either. But I can't get through to him."

Lisbon nodded. "I don't know what you want me to say, Alison. I can't not be who I am. And neither can he."

"Did he tell you about what happened between me and his father?" she asked Lisbon meekly.

"Uh, yeah, he did. He doesn't blame you for that, you know."

"I know he doesn't." She shot her a smile of regret. "I blame myself enough for both of us."

"It didn't sound like you had much choice in the matter."

She shrugged. "No, no, I didn't. But...but that's not important. But I think that's where he got it. This...urge to run when things get tough. He thought I did that. Thought I'd run off and left him. He thought that for a very long time. He ran out on his father eventually. Although I thank god for that time. It's a pattern he can't help repeating, one he saw at an early age, and one he saw as a way out of not having to work things through in that head of his. And even though he knows the full story now of how and why I left...well, the damage was done early on, I suppose."

Lisbon nodded thoughtfully. She recalled his dash from their bed just a few nights prior, his talk of running when he was in a tight spot. He'd done exactly the same again now. He'd simply reacted how his body was programmed to react. It didn't hurt any less that he'd finished with her but she understood the why of it a little better and it soothed the ache, just a bit.

Alison continued, "Look, I'm not here to tell you to beg him to take you back. I'd never do that. But what I am asking is that you don't shut the door entirely."

Lisbon shook her head, "I-I can't wait around for him-"

"I'm not asking you to. And I have no idea if he'll see sense either, I'm afraid. I just hope that he will. He's a man so you know what they're like, stubborn as hell."

Lisbon bit back a smile at the other woman's rather outdated sexist remark.

His mother continued, "But...if he does realise what he's missing...then please just don't slam the door in his face straightaway. Hear him out. And if he still isn't saying what you need him to say then you have my full permission to knock him on his ass and kick him out."

Lisbon smiled at the other woman and held back a tear. Her memory of her own mother had faded over time, just remnants of memories they'd shared that she held onto like precious treasures. She could imagine loving this woman, if things had turned out differently between her and Patrick, of confiding in her how a daughter might. "He's lucky to have you," Lisbon said, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"He'll realise he was lucky to have you too, Teresa. I'm sure of it."

Lisbon sighed. "Guess we'll both have to wait and see."

* * *

 **A/N: If it helps any with the end to this chapter I have the final two chapters pretty much written so updates will be coming thick and fast for this fic. Might also write an epilogue, depending on interest. Thanks again for all the lovely comments for this one, sorry if this turn of events and preceding ones aren't to everyone's taste but hope you understand and respect that I need to write the story I want to tell. In any case, better times are ahead for our duo, I assure you.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Penultimate chapter. I was blown away by the mostly positive feedback for the last chapter, thank you so much, you've no idea how much I appreciate the support. So happy the majority of people like where I've taken this. Hope you enjoy the final few chapters too.**

* * *

Chapter 13 - Reunion

 _ **Six weeks later.**_

Jane sat on a park bench watching the hypnotic to and fro of children on swings in front of him. Their laughter swirled around him in the air like rainbow coloured butterflies, his eyes honed in on his daughter who had just lobbed herself off a swing and was bounding towards a slide at lightning speed. She had a fierce zest for life like most children did and a thirst to experience everything in as short a time as possible, and as if every second of it mattered and had to be cherished and enjoyed to its utmost without fear. He wondered sometimes how he'd managed to raise such a carefree and happy go lucky child when he was so full of neuroses of the opposite persuasion. And if she would continue to act so unafraid under his continuing guidance.

His mind predictably wandered to Teresa Lisbon as it often had since that awful day in the hospital.

She'd be mostly healed by now, he expected, and was more than likely back doing the job she loved and in the field again. He pulled out his phone on a whim and brought up her number. Her smiling face, caught in a side view when she didn't realise she was being watched, brought a sad smile to his lips. He'd taken the candid shot on the last afternoon they'd spent at the beach, her chestnut waves whipped up by a soft ocean breeze and her eyes out to sea as she talked animatedly to him. He let out a breath of regret and his finger hovered over the green call button as it had at least once a week since they'd last seen each other.

His mother had predictably not taken the news of their break up well. She'd relented from badgering him about it after a week's worth of nagging, sensing his mood changing from grim and determined to outright sad. Even if he'd made a monumental cock up in her eyes she was still his mother and couldn't bear to inflict more pain on him and knew he was putting himself through hell as it was. Charlotte had grown weary of the lavish toys and days out after a fortnight, her bright brown eyes too sensing a change in his demeanour and pushing stuffed animals onto him to keep him company in bed at night as if that would salve whatever troubled him.

"Sorry, is anyone sitting here?" a female voice said at his side, startling him from his thoughts.

He put his phone away and smiled politely at the redhead who'd interrupted his indecisiveness.

"No, not at all." He shifted slightly on the bench to create more space between them.

"Thanks," she smiled. "Patrick, isn't it?"

He turned his head towards her and nodded, immediately recognising her as one of the parents from the school Charlotte attended. "Yes...you're Josh's mother, right? Helen, isn't it?"

She beamed back at him. "Yes, that's right. Good memory."

"I try," he said affably, facing front again.

They watched their children play together for a few moments. Helen said, "It's hard, isn't it? Bringing one up by yourself? I've only realised how hard lately."

He looked at her quizzically for a second then nodded, noting the lack of wedding ring on her left hand. "Sorry, hadn't heard. You broke up with Tom?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. What can you do, huh? Life sucks."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Yep."

"Few months ago actually." Her tone was noticeably more traced with seductiveness.

Jane pulled back the impulse to roll his eyes. He was in a minority as a widower in all the parent/toddler groups he'd brought Charlotte to attend and his participation inevitably sparked some interest from single (and occasionally married) women. The old showman in him was flattered by it some of the time. But this afternoon he wasn't in the mood to be looked at like he was a gazelle targeted by a bloodthirsty cheetah. He gestured to an ice cream van ahead of them at the other side of the playground, deciding to escape before she pushed him awkwardly for some sort of 'play date'. "Think I'll get an ice cream before I get my one home, it's getting late. Nice seeing you again."

"Oh, I'd love one too if you wouldn't mind. It's pretty hot today." She flashed her perfectly white veneers, her gaze red hot. She purposefully bit down on her bottom lip with her teeth in what he guessed was meant as a further signal she was interested in him. He'd already gotten the message loud and clear.

"Of course," he said with as much geniality as he could muster. "I'll drop one off to you on our way out." He ignored her pout of dissatisfaction.

As he made quick strides to the van he waved to catch Charlotte's eye as she dangled off a rope bridge, urging her to come with him as he pointed to the truck. As he waited for her to crawl off a climbing frame wearing a massive grin, a man wearing a hooded sweater with the hood up caught his attention near the ice cream van. He didn't fit in with the parents and childminders relaxing in the park. His hands were balled into fists and inside the front pockets of the sweater, his shoulders hunched as he kept his head down as he walked through the park at a quick pace. The hairs on Jane's arms pricked up in response to his intuition. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Kimball Cho in slow pursuit on foot behind him, dressed in dark blue jeans, black T-shirt, and a baseball cap. He blinked, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him as he looked back and forth at the two men a few feet in front of him.

As Charlotte descended towards her father the man in the hoodie stopped short in front of him, catching Jane's distrustful stare trained on him. Jane went to sidestep around him to avoid any further eye contact but the other man grabbed him roughly by his shirt collar before he could move away and pulled a knife from his pocket, manhandling him until he turned him into the path of who was now irrefutably Agent Cho.

"Daddy!" Charlotte screamed behind him. Jane couldn't see her in his line of sight but he could imagine her hurtling in his direction. His stomach somersaulted. He had no idea how he got the words out but shouted to her, while unsuccessfully trying to twist away from the knife now dangerously close to his throat. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm fine, daddy's just playing pretend with this gentleman. Get back on the frame and I'll come get you in a minute, okay?"

Cho advanced, pulled a gun on the man holding him until he noticed the multitude of onlookers, making a decision to lower his weapon. Too many bystanders to take the chance of a clean shot. Cho, normally so unflappable, did a double take when he saw Jane and shook his head slightly at him. Jane, in turn, gave him a look that said ' _tell me about it'_.

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of Charlotte's scream again at his back and his blood ran cold. Her voice was closer than it had been seconds before. He asked Cho a question with his eyes – was his daughter safe?

Cho nodded imperceptibly a moment later before he turned his attention to the other man. "Matthew, put the knife down. You don't want to do this."

"Yeah, who says?" the man with the knife said, his voice high and raspy, panicked.

Lisbon advanced from the side seconds later, slightly out of breath. Jane's gaze trailed over her despite his predicament. Her expression was almost one made of stone but he detected a slight look of astonishment there too. She talked to the man with the tight grip on her ex-boyfriend. Calmly, "Matthew, your wife would not have wanted this. You know that. Think about your son."

Jane could hear Matthew's rushed breaths in his ear. "I-" he stammered.

She was getting through to him, allowing Jane to relax a fraction. She held her gun at her side and then made a point of showing him she was putting it away. She held her hands up as she approached two steps.

"See? No one needs to get hurt today."

Her voice sounded like a lullaby just like that day at the fruit stand.

"My son..." Matthew shook his head. "Who's going to look after him if I go to prison?"

"We'll figure something out," she told him softly.

"A-a deal of some kind to keep me out of prison, you mean?"

She licked her lips. "Well, we can't talk about any kind of deal until you release this man first."

Her eyes flicked to Jane's briefly. He could tell she was lying. He just hoped the man with the knife could not.

As he felt the man's hesitation at her words, Jane weighed in quietly, ensuring his tone was soothing, hypnotic. "She'll make sure you get a good one, Matthew. She has honest eyes. You can see that, can't you? Honest. Tell me you can see that. Look into her eyes and tell me they aren't the most honest you've ever seen. Go on. Look. Honest. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Y-yes, she's honest," Matthew said quietly a tense beat later, his voice with a distinct far away quality to it. A second after Jane felt the pressure release on his neck as the tip of the knife moved away from his skin. He breathed out for what felt like the first time in minutes. Lisbon nodded to him with a look of relief before she took hold of the other man roughly to arrest him with some help from Cho. Jane turned his head, frantically searching for his daughter. He found her in a moment near the climbing frame, Van Pelt kneeling down beside her and holding her hand tightly.

A grin broke out on his face immediately and a tear rolled down his cheek as he rushed to her side and squeezed her with every fibre of his being.

He looked at Van Pelt with overwhelming gratitude. "Thank you," he breathed, sucking in a breath as he kissed his daughter's hair. "Thank you for keeping her safe."

"Wasn't me," the redhead replied with a raised eyebrow. "Boss took hold of her before she got you out of that headlock you got yourself in with Matthew Klein. Told me to watch her, make sure she didn't rush over again and get in the way until she did that."

Jane blinked rapidly and nodded, too overcome to respond and continued to hold his daughter. As Van Pelt walked away he released Charlotte but took hold of her cheeks and stared into her eyes. Shakily, "You okay?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, of course, dad."

"You weren't scared?" he frowned. "It's okay if you were. I certainly was." He managed a watery smile.

"Well...well I was but then Teresa told me that everything was going to be okay, that you were going to be fine. That she'd make sure of it."

"And-and you believed her? A woman you never met before?"

"She told me you were her friend and she'd save you. And, yeah, I knew she was telling me the truth. I could tell. So I wasn't afraid after that."

"I forget you're my daughter sometimes," he smiled.

Perplexed, "How? I thought you had a memory palace?"

He laughed as he picked her up and kissed her cheek. "It's just a turn of phrase."

"Patrick! Are you okay?!" Helen came rushing towards him. "Oh my god, how awful!"

He was enveloped in a hug that almost made him lose his balance. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said, pulling himself out of her vice-like grasp.

Helen talked to Charlotte child-like and in a baby voice. She rubbed her cheek and got in her face. "And are you okay, my little darling?"

Charlie gave her one the glares she'd inherited from his mother and drew back her head in surprise at the invasion of her personal space. Jane cleared his throat, picking up on his daughter's temperament. She smiled sweetly at his cue and feigned politeness dripped from her tone. "Yes, thank you, Mrs Watson."

Rigsby approached, assessing the scene with some awkwardness. "Hey," he said to Jane, before injecting some professionalism into his tone. "Ah...Mr. Jane, right? We'll need a statement from you if you have time now."

Jane looked to his daughter for a response. He wasn't sure if he was ready to let her out of his arms just yet. "I'm okay, dad, I can go play on the swings some more."

"You sure?"

She shrugged, already trying to escape his hold on her and return to play. He chuckled at her independence. "Fine, ten minutes and then I'll be back." He turned to Helen. "Would you mind keeping an eye on her?"

"Of course, Patrick. Be happy to." She looked like the cat who'd broken into the dairy and got all the cream there.

* * *

Alone with Rigsby, the tall agent shot him a disbelieving look. "Well, didn't expect to see you again. Can't seem to stay away from getting in trouble, can you?"

There was annoyance laced in his genial tone. Jane was just pleased it wasn't Cho questioning him.

"It seems not," he agreed. "Who was that guy with the knife?"

"Klein? Killed his wife when he was strung out on drugs. Word was that he met someone few blocks from here to get hooked up. We knew he'd need another hit soon after killing her. Another team arrested his dealer but he made a run for it when he spotted us so we pursued on foot. When he entered the park we had to take the surveillance down a notch in case he went crazy with people everywhere."

Sarcastically, "Yeah? And how'd that work out for you?"

Rigsby appeared to consider the question thoughtfully. "Eh, not too bad, considering. I've seen worse."

Jane laughed and played along. "Yeah, he could have taken a decent person hostage, after all."

Rigsby chuckled. "Yeah, something like that." He paused. "Hey, cute kid by the way."

"Thank you."

"Must take after her mother."

"Very funny," Jane smiled. He looked around. "Where's Teresa?"

Rigsby looked down and turned a page in a notepad he'd taken out. "She went back with Cho to Headquarters to question Klein."

Surprised, "She just left?"

Rigsby raised his eyes a fraction to address him. Blankly, "Why? What did you expect to happen after you dumped her, man?"

He nodded to the redhead who was watching over Charlotte. "Besides, looks like you've moved on. Who'd want to see that?"

"Oh, Christ."

* * *

Lisbon turned on the television with a sigh as she lounged on her couch in a black tank top and yoga pants. She'd just had a bubble bath in an attempt to destress from seeing Patrick Jane so unexpectedly enter her life again the day before. The relaxing aromas of lavender and eucalyptus permeated her condo as she picked up the ice cream container from the coffee table and dug her spoon into it.

She switched channels to an action movie so she didn't fit quite so much into some Bridget Jones stereotype.

Three urgent taps came to her front door and she stopped moving, spoon lodged in her mouth.

"Oh, god," she muttered, knowing exactly who was likely to have shown up at ten pm on a Saturday night.

She threw the spoon down into the tub and padded over barefoot to her front door. Her stomach clenched and she considered ignoring her late night visitor or telling them to beat it through the wood of the door. Then she remembered Patrick's mother's words to her six weeks before. A swirl of anticipation and excitement buzzed through her before she could quash it. She shook her head and took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't regret her decision as she opened the door.

"Hey," Jane said softly, his gaze drinking all of her in. Heat pooled in her and she despised both him and herself for her reaction at that one word and look from him.

"Hey yourself," she said with little emotion, making a point to keep her expression neutral and trying not to notice the swell of his biceps encased in his white T-shirt or the black jeans that fitted him perfectly. She wondered if it was intentional or merely coincidental that he was wearing the same outfit she'd first seen him in, if it was his plan to remind her of when their relationship had begun. Her mind went back to that wet and miserable Christmas Eve where their paths had crossed nevertheless.

"You're not surprised to see me, then?" he asked, the fidgeting of his fingers at his sides displaying his nervousness underneath his calm exterior.

"No, figured you'd show your face sooner or later. Expected you in the office yesterday, actually."

"Thought it would be wise not to show up somewhere where there are so many guns on the premises."

She arched an eyebrow. "You really think here is any safer?"

He grinned then trailed his eyes openly over her again. "Perhaps not. But I doubt you have any on your person wearing that outfit."

She opened her mouth in surprise. Did he know she'd foregone underwear entirely after her bath?

"May I come in?" he asked, a little more confident now he'd rattled her.

She said nothing but opened the door a fraction to allow him to pass. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling more naked than ever. "So, what do you want?"

"Straight to it, eh?"

She remained silent.

"Well, first of all, I wanted to thank you for yesterday."

Caught off guard by his sincerity she swallowed. "That-that's okay. I was just doing my job. I don't require thanks for it."

"You deserve it nonetheless." He nodded to her shoulder. "How's your injury?"

"Fine. Pretty much healed."

He pursed his lips and looked to his feet. "Look, about what happened in the hospital that day-"

"Don't worry about it, okay? You had your reasons. I get it."

He looked up at her again. Softly, "How have you been?"

"Good, I guess. Just...just working mostly. You?"

He bit the inside of his cheek then shrugged. "Pretty miserable, actually."

She looked away then moved towards the couch. "Well, I'm sure you'll pick yourself up in no time. Look, thanks for stopping by but there really was no need. You should get home, Patrick."

He hung around the middle of the living room for a moment before he sat down beside her. He lifted the ice cream container to read the name then nodded with a hum of approval. "Salted caramel, good choice." He spooned some into his mouth. "Mmm. Delicious." He offered the carton to her.

She grabbed it off him and ate a large mouthful as she watched him ease himself onto the cushions beside her as he rather obviously made himself comfortable, his audacity causing her to shake her head.

"I missed out on some ice cream yesterday," he said conversationally, watching the television.

Naturally he must have still been feeling the after effects of what had happened to him. She'd been in so many standoffs she sometimes forgot the civilians weren't used to them. Sympathetically, "Yeah...yeah that must have been frightening for you. You dealing with it okay?"

"Mhmm-hmm. I guess. I'll admit it's not the best company I've ever had forced upon me."

"Charlotte?"

He paused and troubled his bottom lip. "She was okay afterwards then got a little clingy last night but today she was fine, can't wait to tell her friends at school come Monday. I'll keep an eye on her, though, she'll probably be back and forth for a while. But children bounce back, or she does, at least. I hope so, anyway."

He looked at her. "She told me what you said to keep her back. I appreciate you making sure she was out of harm's way and safe with Grace before you came anywhere near me."

She continued to watch the screen. "It was just instinct, Patrick, no need to make a big deal out of it. I just saw her begin to run to you and grabbed her before she got too close. I-I wasn't even sure who she was at first. Quite a shock to me when I did. Besides, Cho had your back."

"It was a very big deal to me, Teresa."

She stopped watching television, could feel his eyes boring into her. She turned, smiled softly. "It was never the circumstances I ever envisaged meeting her, I admit."

He mirrored her smile. "Yeah, me neither."

She whispered, her throat constricted with emotion, "She's lovely, really lovely, Patrick. You've done such a great job at raising her."

"It's still somewhat of a work in progress but thank you."

She went to speak then stopped. Then she frowned and asked, "Did you...did you hypnotise Klein yesterday? He came around pretty quickly all of a sudden, seemed dazed for a while on the way back to the CBI."

"Eh, maybe a little. More of a trance like state. I wasn't entirely sure it'd work as he wasn't facing me at the time."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Wow. Then you should thank yourself for getting out of that particular pickle, not me or my team."

"It was more of a joint effort." Gently, "I'd say we made quite a good team."

She shifted in her seat silently before they resumed watching television for a few seconds. Then he said, "Although I do have a bone to pick with you."

Surprised, "Oh? About what?"

"Charlotte told me today she wants to be a cop when she grows up after seeing you in action."

His eyes were transfixed on the screen and she had no idea if he was serious or joking. Lisbon stifled a laugh until she could not. He angled his head towards her at the sound, a slight smile of surprise on his lips in opposition to the sternness in his voice. "I assure you it isn't the least bit funny, Teresa. As if I'm not terrified of losing her enough."

She tried to restrain her laughing. "Yeah, I know. But come on, it kinda is, considering."

He began to chuckle along. "No, not really. But thought you'd appreciate hearing that. Although, she wanted to be an astronaut last week when I took her to the Science Museum so she will probably want to become a prima ballerina when I take her to the ballet next month so I'll take this fad with a pinch of salt too."

She laughed readily then stopped abruptly. She was allowing herself to relax into his company again all too easily. She cleared her throat. Brightly, "Well, thanks again for stopping by and for your thanks. You could always make a donation to the CBI if you feel like it next time your ass is saved."

Amused, "You really want me out of here, huh? Look, just in case you noticed her, there's absolutely nothing going on with that woman you might have seen me with in the park yesterday, Teresa."

She licked her lips and wrapped her hand more tightly around the remote control that sat on the armrest of the couch. "Woman? I don't know what you're talking about. In any case, none of my concern anymore, Patrick. You're free to date whomever you want anytime you want."

"High voice," he smiled under his breath but still audible. "Well, as long there's no misunderstanding on the matter."

She blushed and shifted slightly, picking up the ice cream container again. He leant over and put one hand around it in her grip. She flinched when his fingers brushed over hers as he lifted the spoon and helped himself, his mouth so close to hers she could hear him swallow. A memory came to her of the first ice cream sundae he'd made her after their first dinner date, the first kiss they'd shared seconds later.

"Oh, what the hell," she murmured. She angled her head towards his, bridged the gap between their bodies and kissed him. He moaned, first in surprise and then in delight as she deepened it.

She released his lips and he frowned as he blinked wildly at her. She shot him a look he couldn't decipher as his brain tried to catch up with what had just happened. The ice cream container placed on the table beside them, she got to her feet and stood over him, outstretching her hand.

He stared at it for a moment and then snapped his focus to her face, questioning her intent. This time, there was no mistaking what she was relaying by the curve of her lips and the darkness in her eyes.

Still, he had to question this sudden about turn in events when he hadn't even said yet what he came to her place to say. "W-What's happening here?"

She quirked an eyebrow and took his hand, pulling him to his feet. She kissed him again, slowly. He responded hesitantly, butterflies in his stomach.

"Teresa?"

"Ssh. Stop talking and stop thinking."

* * *

 **A/N: Final chapter up next where they will finally finish their much needed conversation...Jane still has some talking to do, after all...and perhaps other matters, too. Epilogue will also follow.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Some M material in this chapter. I've marked it accordingly. L** **ast chapter, epilogue to follow shortly. Apologies for not replying to reviews last chapter but I appreciate them all. Thank you.**

* * *

Chapter 14 - Rekindling

She guided him to the bottom of the stairs, turned her head and grinned as he followed her like some kind of dazed golden retriever puppy. It wasn't often she'd witnessed him flummoxed. The sight of her dimples made him more present in the moment and he pulled on her hand sharply and brought her swinging back towards him, crashing his lips against hers.

"I've missed you," he said against her mouth. "So very much."

She nodded and drew a deep breath, drawing him towards the first step. "Come on, then. No more talking."

 **M scene**

When they made it to her bedroom he came up behind her and kissed her neck tenderly, tentatively at first, his hands sweeping around her and settling on her belly.

"Mhmm," she murmured, reaching around to run her fingers through his hair as he caressed her shoulder with kisses.

As he began to take more control, the fingers of his right hand slowly descending, she turned around and stopped him in his tracks. She smiled impishly and took his hands again, resting them at his sides.

Her eyes never left his as her fingers went to work on his belt buckle, efficiently opening it and flicking the button open on his jeans. She dragged the zipper down and kissed him as her small hand felt its way inside the rough cloth to the soft cotton of his boxers.

He placed his hands on her face, kissing her back, again and again as she fondled him. He let out a guttural moan when she slipped her fingers through to bare skin and increased her pace. He had no problem with her calling the shots on this occasion, or any other, come to that, and especially so considering her acceptance of him doing the same the last time they were in this position. He wasn't a man who needed control in the bedroom to make him feel like a man. And at this moment he felt more like a living breathing male than he had in six weeks.

"Christ!" he expelled when she dragged her face from his and slowly kissed her way down his chest and stomach until she was on her knees.

"Take your T-shirt off," she ordered him just before she took him in her mouth.

He swore under his breath, her green eyes staring up at him, devilish and demanding as she licked him softly but assuredly for seconds.

Releasing him she took a deep breath and moistened her lips. "Now," she said breathlessly before she took him in her hands and drew him into her mouth slowly again. His fingers went to the hem of the garment as he acquiesced quickly and threw it behind him.

"Fuck me!" he gasped, rolling his head backwards as she increased the rhythm and he suddenly felt the tip of his penis hit the back of her throat.

She laughed as she withdrew her mouth again, pressing small kisses on his increasingly hard length as she moved it up and down in her hand at speed. "That's the general idea, yes."

He shook his head, sweat littering his brow, his eyes on stalks as he watched her continue her tempting and tantalising strokes with her hands and her mouth, just enough pressure to have him speechless and barely capable of a response but not so much that he was in danger of embarrassing himself in front of her. He barely realised she'd dragged his jeans to his ankles until she told him to rid himself of his shoes.

She got to her feet as he did so and wiped her mouth with the pads of her fingers, watched with amusement as he did the awkward dance of shimmying out of his shoes, socks and pants in his less than compos mentis state. She was busy moving the covers of the bed away and squealed, giggling, as he bit down on her right ass cheek playfully as she turned her head from him to fix the pillows.

He pulled her yoga pants down from behind, startled she was naked underneath them if the moan of approval followed by another nip of her cheek and a soothing kiss to it was anything to go by.

She crawled onto the bed, discarding the yoga top she wore swiftly. Crooking a finger at him as she lay against the pillows she smiled as he grinned and joined her without needing to be asked twice.

They kissed then, slowly and tenderly, bare skin brushing against bare skin. He kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach and she closed her eyes and groaned at every worshipful swipe of his lips. Before he dipped his head further down her body she brought his face back up to hers again and kissed him eagerly, brushing her fingertips across his cheeks and a sweat-drenched curl from his brow as she stared into his green blue gaze. He read what she wanted from him instantly.

He ran his tongue around his lips and kissed her with the barest of touches.

She reached down between them and pressed him against her core. "Now, Patrick," she whispered.

He took himself in hand and rubbed against her clitoris, teasing her, the evidence of her arousal and his own glistening and slick on him. She closed her eyes and mewled quietly, tongue grazing her upper lip. He made a few experimental passes with his hand, satisfied when his fingers slid around his length easily.

"Open your eyes," he said softly as he paused just before he entered her, "I want to see your eyes, Teresa."

She opened them immediately and brought her legs around his hips, shifting slightly to make the angle more satisfying for both of them. "Everything okay?" she asked when he didn't immediately join with her. "Do you want to use-?"

He kissed her again then, eyes open as he pushed himself into her at an excruciatingly slow pace. He bit down on his lower lip so hard he thought he might draw blood as he felt her heat encase him like soft welcoming velvet. She didn't move her body but caressed his shoulders with her fingertips as she encouraged him to go deeper.

He'd closed his eyes as he'd concentrated on not releasing into her straight away. Now, satisfied (and very much relieved) he had held onto some semblance of control, he opened them again. She was grinning at him and he found himself grinning back as he kissed her and a tear ran down his cheek as he let out an involuntary laugh. Gaining more confidence he gently thrusted into her, enthralled when she began to moan beneath him pleasantly. He did it again, harder.

Soon a steady rhythm was established and they kissed hungrily, their moans and the sound of slapping of skin against skin piercing the silence of the bedroom around them.

She rolled him over onto his back and took up a position above him when he began to run out of steam, rolling her hips against him in quick fluent motions as she placed her hands on his chest, dark swirling hair cascading across her breasts. He held onto her hips as she continued as he caught his breath before he sat up to scatter kisses onto her breasts, her collarbone, her lips. Then he pushed into her harder, his hands falling to her ass to set the pace again as he increased the acceleration. The tempo they'd established was thrown into disarray and a cacophony of wild bursts took its place instead. She threw her head back and her fingers bit into the skin on his back, scraping him as an orgasm took hold of her. Her mouth spasmed into a silent 'o' of euphoria. She clenched around him hard and his eyes rolled back in his head as he lost control, following her soon after with his own release. With a last spurt of energy, he grasped her backside and flipped her over, pushing her back against the pillows again, and continued to empty himself into her, grunting loudly with every last push of his hips.

 **M scene end**

Breathless, he shifted his weight off her and flung himself back to the other side of the bed. He closed his eyes as every part of him began to shake.

He had no idea of time as a post-coital haze enveloped him for what could have been mere seconds or minutes. He began to breathe more easily and clasped his hand against his heart, still hammering in his chest.

Her giggle made him crack his eyelids open. He just managed to turn his head to find her smiling at him. He smiled back but words escaped him as he merely shook his head.

"You okay?" she grinned, turning on her side to face him.

He patted his chest. Managed to croak, "Just wondering if I just had a mild cardiac episode or not."

She laughed and that made him do the same. He took a deep breath and turned to face her and placed a hand on her cheek, bringing her face to his so he could steal a soft kiss. "That was..." He shook his head. "Words escape me."

She snuggled into his arms and kissed his chest. "Well, that must be a first."

He ran his fingertips up and down her arms and pecked the top of her head as they lay there silently for a few sweet and calming moments. He felt the scar the bullet had inflicted six weeks before and sighed, holding onto her a little tighter as a result.

"Everything all right?" she murmured, nervous suddenly.

He nodded against her hair. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt if he was being honest with himself – somewhat delirious, ecstatic, overwhelmed if he hazarded a guess. Some guilt settled on him too for feeling so happy and content in having shared this moment with the woman in his arms. But, a little surprisingly, it wasn't eating him up or making him want to flee from the comfort he'd just found. It just felt incredibly right to be where he was at this moment.

He kissed her hair then said, "So, am I now allowed to ask just what happened to warrant this rather pleasurable and unexpected outcome to my visit?"

She played with a tuft of hair on his chest. "Told you I'd ravish you one day."

He chuckled. "Well, mission truly well accomplished on that score, my dear."

He tilted her chin upwards so he could look at her. More serious, "Why, though? Why...after the way things were left between us? Why'd you come on to me like that out of the blue?"

She pulled back from him slightly but ran her fingers across his chest as she stared at it instead of his face. She shrugged and said quietly, "Precisely because I hated how things ended between us. Me strapped to a bed, half drugged out of my mind and the smell of antiseptic in the room."

He exhaled, sighed. Gently, "Teresa, I-"

"It's okay," she said as he raised her head with a smile. "I'm not blaming you for your decision. Like I said, I really do understand it. You want to protect yourself from losing someone and, even more than that, you want to protect Charlotte too. It was just all so...depressing, you know, how it ended?"

He nodded silently, self-loathing covering his expression. She kissed him tenderly and smiled. "Patrick, please, don't worry about it. Better we end things like this, though, right? A last hurrah, or whatever."

He blinked twice. "Ah." His head fell against the pillows and he closed his eyes. "So this was your way of saying goodbye, then?" he whispered. "Closure, something along those lines."

She moved to sit up on the bed beside him, grabbing an oversized football jersey from underneath her pillow and threw it on. "Well, yes. I mean...nothing has changed, has it? I'm still a cop and I'll always be a cop. And as much as I like you, Patrick, I'm not about to stop doing a job I love for you."

He sat up, pulling a pillow to wedge at his back. "I know that, Teresa."

She shrugged. "So...well, there we go, then."

He stared at her for a few seconds. "I never got around to telling you something this evening." A smile that may have almost been a smirk made its way across his lips. "You...you distracted me with your womanly ways before I got the chance."

"Like you were hard to distract."

He tilted his head and nodded. "Fair point. But, nonetheless..." He sat up straighter and ghosted his hand across her fingers until he took her hand in his, all of a sudden utterly sincere. "When you were shot..." He paused at the word, swallowed and started again. "When you were shot all I could see was what I stood to lose from my life if you continued to be a part of it. It wasn't all about you being a cop but, yes, the danger your line of work puts you in didn't help matters. All I could see was losing you, Teresa. And...I couldn't help but pull away from the pain of that happening to me again. And even worse, it happening to Charlotte for the very first time. "

He pinned her with a look of anguish that made her tear up and she squeezed his hand. He continued, "She doesn't remember her mother, naturally. I mean...I tell her about her all the time and she asks me a lot of questions." He laughed softly, "And I mean a lot of questions."

He licked his lips. "But I know she misses her. Someone she's never even known she misses every day of her life. I can see it, sometimes, when it's just me and her at some event with her friends. When all the mothers are there and there I am, sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of it. So, then, when you came along and...when we got close and we started to talk about a future together-"

"You were understandably anxious, yes, I remember."

"Yes. But then when you were injured I imagined how she'd have to cope with missing someone she'd actually gotten to know. The pain that would cause her. Someone who...well, who may have become a mother figure in her life. Having the reality of your career shoved in my face made me wonder if being with you was worth the pain it might cause my daughter and me further down the road. And I-I didn't want to take the chance."

"Like I said, Patrick, I understood why you felt you needed to pull away with the career I have. Although...even if I wasn't a cop...even if you meet someone else who isn't one...you won't be able to protect her from loss forever, you know, as much as you might think that's possible." She looked to her lap. "Believe me, I wish it wasn't but it's true."

He nodded, knew she was thinking about the loss of her own mother as a child. "That's what I've come to realise, albeit I'm a little late in learning that lesson. You're right, I can't. As much as I try to protect her there's going to be loss in her life at some stage. It could have happened yesterday with me, in fact. So, yes, I can't protect her from it forever. And, in the meantime, I owe her the best life I can give her."

She kissed him lightly. "I'm sure you already do."

"I try but I could do better. Like..." He paused, a heavy silence. "Like having you in her life. That would make it better."

She drew her head back, surprised. "Wh-at are you saying, Patrick?"

"I think you know what I'm saying, Teresa. The last thing I want is for this to be goodbye between us. What I want...what I want is for you to give me...to give _us_ another chance."

She shook her head. "I-I dunno."

Determinedly, "I can do better. We can make this work."

"How, when we couldn't before?"

"It's different now."

"How so?"

"Because I've started to see things from another angle the past day or so. I want you in my life and I want you in my daughter's life. And as far as role models go, I can't imagine a better one for her."

"I don't think I'm a role model for anyone, never mind a five-year-old," she grumbled. "I work sixty hours a week on a quiet week, have no social life and my idea of a fun read is catching up on progress reports."

He laughed. "Well, when you put it like that you really don't have a life to wish for." He took both her hands in his, sincere again. "But you're wrong about not being a role model, though, for Charlotte. Or...or for me, come to that."

When he saw her look of puzzlement he explained, "You are one of the strongest and bravest people I've ever known, Teresa. Now, which would I rather for Charlotte? Someone like me who runs at the first hint of trouble or someone like you who's willing to face it head on?"

She shook her head. "I only do that in my job, Patrick. Personally, well, I'm pretty much a mess."

"I doubt that's true if you actually found yourself committed to someone." He smiled, laughed softly, "Now, getting you to that committed stage might be somewhat difficult to achieve but once you were, you'd do everything in your power to make it work." He grinned, "Even if the person you commit to is a prize jackass some of the time."

She blushed and looked down at their hands intertwined. "Maybe, I don't know."

He tilted her chin towards him and kissed her. "I think you know I'm right. And, this lack of a social life you talk about, I'm sure I can find many ways to make sure you have one if that's what you want. You might just come to realise that work doesn't have to satisfy everything you want out of life if you allow me the time to show you what else it has to offer."

"But my job-"

"Yes, I know how important it is to you and yes, you may need to cut down on your hours. But if I help you now and then with your cases like I did before then maybe we could find a compromise of sorts so we spent more time together but where your career doesn't suffer because of it."

She troubled her bottom lip. "That...that would be helpful but...but it wasn't what I was referring to."

"Ah," he nodded. "The fact I'm more likely to lose you because of your job? That's what you were referring to?"

"Yes. Because...you say all this now and it all sounds plausible. In theory. But...but what happens if I get hurt again and you change your mind and decide I'm not worth the risk, after all? I'd stand to risk losing a family I just became a part of and I-I don't know if I could cope with that."

He ran his tongue around his lips. "I can't say I won't become scared again, Teresa. I'll probably be in fear for your life every day we're together. If...if you want that future, that is. But I've lived the past six weeks without you in my life and I never want to experience that again, certainly not through a choice _I've_ made. And I love you-"

He saw her eyes become as wide as a deer's and he chuckled. "Yeah, sorry, maybe I should have started out with telling you that."

Sincerely, "I love you, Teresa Lisbon. I realised it the last day we were together. And maybe...maybe that fact scared me almost as much as when you got shot. Maybe I was running from that too.

"Anyway, I love you and you being a cop is part of why I do. If you weren't then you wouldn't be who you are. And I don't want to imagine that."

"I-I don't quite know what to say. But-"

"But you have a concern with this running away thing still?"

She shrugged. "How could I not? It's a pattern and you know it."

He nodded thoughtfully, looking down. "I know it is. In fact, my mother and I had a discussion last night about why I act like that sometimes. Made me understand myself a little better. All I can do is promise to work on it now I understand the reasons behind the behaviour more."

"O-kay, fair enough. But you're really okay that I'm a cop? How'd you change your mind about that all of a sudden?"

"Right, yes, that. Before yesterday all I could see were the negatives of having a cop in our lives until I saw you again, as I've said. But then last night I began to see the positives. Your career...instead of my looking at it like some anathema that comes between us and is a dark cloud over our heads I've started to look at it from a different perspective. Your job makes you a protector, first and foremost. You save people. You get them justice. You'd save me and my family if anyone of us was in danger time and again. How could I not want someone like that in my life every day? Someone with that strength? Those morals?"

He chuckled, "What I told you earlier, about Charlotte wanting to be a cop – although it's something terrifying for me to comprehend, for obvious reasons – she only said she wanted to be one because it's something admirable to be. Let's just say she's never wanted to be a fake psychic or to run a diner to make a living."

"You really mean all of this?" she asked, tears threatening.

He leaned in and kissed her, his palm caressing the curve of her cheek. "Yes, every word."

When he saw her look of uncertainty he pecked her lips quickly. "Just say you'll think about it. I'll understand if it's not something you're interested in pursuing. It's a lot to take on, me and my family, believe me I know." He laughed softly.

After a beat she nodded. "Okay, I'll-I'll think about it."

He looked at the clock on her nightstand. "Now, this is going to make me sound like I'm the worst kind of man but-"

"You have to get home," she said with a small chuckle.

He made a face that was full of regret. "Unfortunately. There's nothing more I'd rather than to stay here all night with you but-"

"Your daughter needs you."

He pointed to the scattered clothing around the bed. "I didn't anticipate this happening so I just got a sitter for an hour. I figured I'd say my piece and leave. Or you'd throw me out before I even had the chance."

She shrugged. "It's fine, I understand. I-I need some time to think, anyway."

He smiled and kissed her softly. "That you do."

He got out of the bed and got dressed. By the time he was tying up his shoelaces she asked, "So, how would it work next, if...if I said yes?"

He grinned with his back to her then turned around.

"I haven't agreed to anything," she told him quickly upon seeing his smile.

"Yet," he said. "But I'm more confident you will, now."

"So?" she tried again, ignoring his newfound assurance. "What would the next steps be?"

"You'd come to lunch, I thought. Meet Charlotte officially. As soon as possible. We'd take it from there. Simple."

She fidgeted with her fingers. "Sounds...okay, I guess."

"She already thinks you're some kind of superhero, you know. There's no need to be nervous about meeting her properly."

"I'm hardly that," she blushed. "But...thanks, good to know I wouldn't get the cold shoulder."

"So that's a yes?" he tried.

"I-?"

He kissed her. "You want me to beg?" he grinned.

She raised an eyebrow. "I dunno. Maybe I do."

As he made a show to get down on his knees with an exaggerated theatrical sigh and an eye roll she laughed and took hold of his arms to get him to sit on the bed again. "Okay. Okay, you idiot," she chuckled.

He embraced her. "Really?"

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Yeah...and you can thank your mother for me coming around so quickly."

He frowned. "What?"

She filled him in on his mother's visit to her office days after they broke up. "That interfering..." He began to laugh, "...wonderful woman."

Lisbon kissed him. "You're lucky to have her, don't be so rude about her."

He kissed her back. "Let's see if you feel the same way when she's your mother in law one day."

She gaped at his remark and he grinned, getting off the bed. "And, on that bombshell, I better get myself home."

* * *

He was whistling as he let himself into his house.

"Patrick?"

His mother's voice from the living room made him stop. He frowned upon entering it. "What are you doing here? I thought Sophie was sitting for Charlie."

"She was...then..."

He quirked an eyebrow with a grin. "Then you got rid of her so you could finagle your way over here and get the skinny, huh?"

A rosy glow came over her cheeks. "Well, I had to know how it went with Teresa after our talk last night. Did you really expect me to wait until tomorrow to find out?"

"If I weren't so happy right now I'd make you wait until then to find out."

She grinned. "Really?"

He nodded, mirrored her smile. "Really."

She hugged him and he laughed, hugged her back. "And I believe I have you to thank for some of it."

* * *

After seeing his mother out, he let himself into his room and found his daughter had made her way into his bed. Maybe the knife wielding junkie was affecting her more than she wanted him to know.

He knelt down beside her and kissed her forehead, running his fingers through her hair. "Hey, sweetie? You okay?"

She opened her eyes. "Yeah. But Mr Bumble wanted to stay here tonight."

He smiled at the stuffed bee in her arms. "Okay, no problem. But tomorrow you both go back to your own bed, all right?"

She nodded with a smile and got comfortable again.

He had a quick shower and got changed into his pyjamas, settling in beside her. His limbs pleasantly ached from his exertions earlier and he smiled in the dark, his hands intertwined on his stomach as he relived the night's events.

Charlotte shifted, turned towards him and placed her head on his shoulder. He kissed her hair silently and sighed contentedly, the first time he felt at peace in six weeks. Or perhaps a whole lot longer than that...

"You happy again, dad?" the sleepy voice said at his side.

"You know, I think I just might be," he smiled.

* * *

 **A/N: Yes, there will be a scene with Lisbon and Charlotte in it for those of you waiting for that in the epilogue. Thank you for reading.**


	15. Chapter 15

Epilogue

 ** _Six months later._**

"Look, Teresa! A crab!" Charlotte screamed, pointing into the water and almost deafening Lisbon. She grinned at the little girl dressed in a purple swimsuit and matching waterproof sandals and looked into the rock pool, her hand clutched tightly in Charlotte's small one.

She peered in closer. "I think there's a starfish in there too."

Excitedly, "Where?! Where?!"

Lisbon laughed and gestured to the orange starfish at the edge of the pool hiding under a rock.

"Yes!"

Charlotte released Lisbon's hand to take out her waterproof camera from the Frozen backpack Lisbon was holding for her in her free hand and lay front down on the sand to get a shot of more of the treasures they'd uncovered on their stroll along the beach. Her golden pigtails shook from side to side as she wriggled to get comfortable on her belly and take the best photographs.

Lisbon took up a position beside her, dressed in an aubergine T-shirt and white shorts. Sitting down, she stretched her legs out in front of her, wiggling her bare toes, and enjoyed the feel of the setting sun on her skin as sunset approached. She watched Charlotte's frown of concentration, her tongue protruding and settling over her top lip, and was reminded of the exact same look the blonde haired girl's father held when he focused on something too. Lisbon reflected on the past six months of her life and how much it had changed.

Her introduction to Charlotte had gone much easier than she had imagined it would. She'd met her the day after Jane had secured her affections at a lunch at his home. She'd brought a present of some art materials with her as he had mentioned Charlotte liked to sketch in a blatant attempt to get his daughter to like her from the get-go. Jane had shot her a knowing look when he'd opened the door to her and saw them, laughing softly as he pecked her lips.

"She'll see right through that bribe," he'd said with another laugh. He'd captured her lips again in the hallway when he noticed her nervousness and told her softly, "Just be yourself and she'll love you like I do in no time at all."

As usual, he'd been right.

Charlotte had obviously been told about the change in her father's relationship status and had acted a little shyly around her at first, noticeably trying to make a good first impression on the stranger in their midst herself. Jane looked so relaxed he was practically horizontal (or at least had seemed that way, later he'd told her he was more than a little nervous) and had eased any awkwardness with his well practiced and renowned charm.

His daughter hadn't stayed quiet for long and she soon became animated as lunch was served by his mother. She was delighted to be reacquainted with the cop from a few days before, and had asked her question upon question about her job and how many criminals she had put away, and if she had ever fired a gun and so on. Lisbon deduced that if she did decide a career in law enforcement was for her, she'd make quite an excellent interrogator, perhaps turning out even better than Cho.

She had a sense of the macabre that children that age often did and it wasn't the first time Lisbon had been asked the same questions and found it easy to rattle off her responses once she'd become more comfortable in her presence. Jane had steered the conversation away to less morbid everyday matters easily when his daughter prodded into darker dealings and his mother had fussed her way through the lunch to ensure it was a roaring success.

Her knowledge of her boyfriend, up until that point, had been in knowing him as a man and not a father. She knew he was a caring and wonderful one but seeing the evidence of it in front of her that day in how he looked at his daughter and how his face lit up every time she spoke had made her heart melt. And she could almost hear her ovaries cry out in response as much as she tried to hush them into silence.

Their first few months together had been spent in gradually incorporating their lives together, a balancing act not always achieved to Olympic standards but they managed to stay on the tightrope together and help each other when one of them lost their footing.

They knew they were on the right track when Charlotte insisted Lisbon read her a goodnight story one night and not her father or his mother.

Lisbon's job, so much at the forefront of her life for so long, was still important to her and she still worked too many hours according to Jane (she'd asked him once how many would be acceptable and he'd grumbled a garbled response – proof enough that no cutting of hours would probably ever be fully acceptable to him on the matter). But he'd never mentioned her quitting and had supported her long hours with assistance on some cases. She'd eventually managed to talk him into being a part-time consultant with the CBI and he would inevitably arrive bearing donuts and sporting a large grin on occasions just in time to save the day when the rest of the team were almost at their wits end.

On a more personal note, he also provided foot rubs (mandatory once a week sessions he'd explained as if they were signing a contract one evening) and mind-blowing sex. It wasn't a bad life at all, she smiled to herself, remembering their lovemaking the night before.

He still had his issues and so had she but they were working through them together and she knew to call or text him if she was going to be late if they'd made plans, knowing he'd sit and worry as the minutes ticked by. It was strange being suddenly accountable to another human being as she'd lived so long independently but it was worth any slight inconvenience it caused her when she knew it pacified him.

But work wasn't her whole life now and she looked forward to weekends and time away from the office. While she was trying to integrate into an established family unit, Jane also took time for just the two of them and had treated her to a plush night in an oceanfront hotel (this time, one that was not the size of a matchbox and had a beautiful vista from its adjoining terrace) after their second month anniversary. She'd complained about the cost he'd explained it was more like six months if they discarded their time apart. He surprised her at least once a month since with various other treats he knew she'd like. She had stopped fighting against his need for sometimes extravagant gestures, admitting defeat when she saw how much he enjoyed making them.

"Teresa, come on," Charlotte urged her, back on her feet again and placing the camera back into the backpack that sat beside Lisbon, bringing her out of her thoughts. She pointed a few feet away. "There's another pool over there."

Lisbon removed some sunscreen from the pack. "Okay, sweetie, but some more sunscreen first then we'll go."

After kneeling to apply it she kissed Charlotte's forehead, and smiled as she got to her feet, Charlotte's hand already outstretched for Lisbon to take again.

* * *

Jane meandered his way down the path towards the beach, his golden curls ruffling in the breeze. He scanned the horizon and smiled softly as he saw Lisbon and Charlotte walk hand in hand a short distance away.

His eyes strayed to his mother at the foot of grassy verge nearby, a book in her hands as she sat on a picnic blanket and a variety of Tupperware containers strewn around her in various states of depletion.

He quietly made his way up to her then bellowed behind her shoulder, "Beautiful day, mother, isn't it!"

"Holy mother of god, Patrick!" she screamed in surprise, inciting him to laugh as he sat down beside her. He opened a box containing a sandwich and bit into it heartily, still chuckling.

"I swear I think you're still ten years old sometimes," his mother admonished, resting a hand on her heart. She swatted his arm with the book.

"Ow!" he laughed. "Did you have to bring a hardback with you?"

She put the book down and poured him some tea from a flask. He looked at it, questioningly.

"It's all there is," she told him before he could complain.

He shrugged and took a sip. "Dear god," he muttered, casting the offending plastic beaker it came in a look of disgust.

"How'd it go?" Alison asked, ignoring his remarks about the tea as he threw the remnants of it across the sand.

He nodded, his gaze set on the two figures who'd stopped a little way up the beach.

"Good, all set. Start in the Fall."

"You sure about leaving the diner?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it was time I did something a little more taxing with my time. Charlotte's growing up. She doesn't need me so much so I have more of it on my hands nowadays. And working with Teresa has made me use my brain more, been nice, challenging."

At his tone became increasingly wistful his mother told him softly, "You're her father, she'll always need you."

He nodded sadly then smiled. "Yeah, you're right. I know. Just wish sometimes I could freeze time. She's growing up far too fast for my liking."

She laughed. "Don't we all? Wouldn't have the cellulite I have on my thighs now if we could."

He shook his head and chortled. "Thanks for putting that image into my head, mom." He ate another bite of sandwich and took his shoes off. "You and the rest of the Golden Girls are okay running it, aren't you? I can hire someone else if it's too much for you."

She cast him a stony gaze. "Will you stop calling me, Freda and Joyce that?"

He shot her a sideways look and grinned. "Come on, how could I not? It suits you. Three single and ...more mature ladies all friends and working together like that, bet it's like an episode of that show every day in there."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, you might want to take a look at the latest figures. We made a profit last month. And there were four of them in that show."

He turned to face her, surprised. "You made a profit? How'd that happen?"

"Because we so-called 'Golden Girls' as you insist on calling us actually make what people order and are polite to our customers."

"Meh," he smiled. "Bet you still dress them, though."

She stammered, "W-well, there's no point in good clothing going to waste, is there?"

"So how much was it?"

"Hmm?" Alison said, picking up her book again with pursed lips.

He grinned. "The profit, how much did we make?"

She licked her lips and his grin widened. "Wow, a whole ten dollars, huh?"

She pretended to hit him with the book again and he moved out of the way to avoid it with a hearty laugh. She chuckled, "Twenty, actually, but it's still better than you ever did."

"Fair point," he agreed.

She laughed, "I don't know how Teresa puts up with you, that girl must be a saint."

"She has been called that in the past," he smiled, settling himself on his elbows as he watched the waves roll in and out. A few moments passed in silence. Softly, "I never imagined being this happy again."

His mother ruffled his hair. "I never imagined it either when I saw you again that first time."

He sighed. "I was quite the mess. Couldn't believe it when I opened the door and there you were."

She shook her head. "Wish I'd come back sooner."

Quietly, "Why didn't you?"

"I-I thought you were happy. Heard you were married and a real success. I mean, it wasn't the career I'd have wanted for you but...but I hardly had a right to tell you that, did I? I had no right interfering after missing out on so much but...but when I heard about Angela...I couldn't just stand in the shadows any longer. I had to find you. Lucky I was able to track down Sam and Pete to get your address."

"Guilt," he nodded. "Seems to be a trait in us Janes," he said softly.

"Yeah, it does," she confirmed with a deep sigh of her own.

"I'd never have got through those first months without you," he said in a whisper. "I...I can never repay you for that, you know. And I don't know if I'd finally been able to make a go of it with Teresa without you either. I know she's struggled sometimes, adapting to all of us and that you've made it easier for her. And for Charlotte too."

At the sound of his mother's sniffles, he smiled and removed a white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She blew her nose loudly and he laughed. "Talk about spoiling a sweet moment."

She laughed and blew her nose again. "Sorry. My life was just as empty, you know. You and Charlotte made me see what was missing in mine and what was important."

He gazed at Lisbon, her laugh in the distance as she and Charlotte splashed each other in the sea. "Family," he said. "Even if it's a dysfunctional one, at times."

His mother followed his gaze. "She's part of that too now. It doesn't scare you anymore, though, does it? Having someone again?"

He shook his head. "Less so. And infinitely better than not having her at all."

"Then maybe you should ask her the question on your mind."

He turned his head quickly and frowned at her.

She raised an eyebrow. "You think I didn't learn a tell or two in my time, young man? You've been twisting your fingers around that wedding ring finger of yours since we mentioned her."

He looked at his hands, exactly in the position she stated. "Damn," he said.

* * *

Jane put his reading material down when Lisbon entered his bedroom. "She asleep?"

She nodded and smiled as she sat at the dressing table and removed her cross necklace. "Out cold. Sea air does that."

She turned around to him. "You don't mind, do you, her asking me to read her bedtime stories sometimes?"

He smiled. "Of course not." He began to read the brochure in his hands again, still wearing a smile. "Besides, you're better at those duck noises than I am."

She stopped unbuttoning her blouse and looked at him with horror in the mirror facing her. "Tell me you didn't hear me make those silly voices in there."

He raised an eyebrow at her, his smile widening.

"Oh, god," she said, shaking her head. "You better not tell my team about that next time you decide to pop into the office."

"Hmm. That's an interesting idea. Wonder how they would feel about their fearless leader sounding like Daffy Duck. I could even record it for them as I doubt they'd believe me..."

She threw a pack of makeup wipes at his head and he laughed as he caught them one-handed.

He placed them on the nightstand with a chuckle then noticed her posture was tight. "I was only kidding about recording it, Teresa, or telling them," he frowned.

Distracted, "No, no I know that, Patrick."

"Something else the matter?"

She shook her head. "No, not at all."

He furrowed his brow as he watched her continue to undress. "So, any decisions made on your Major yet?" she asked brightly, nodding to the college brochure in his hands.

"Not really, not yet."

"Guess it depends on the score you get on your SATs. And you getting your High School Diploma. Can't believe you never went there, still."

He continued reading and muttered, "Hmm. I was far too busy conning people for a living. And you really think I won't perform well in those standardised tests. Please."

She laughed at his assurance. "I wish I had a strong argument to tell you not to be so cocky but I don't. I know you'll do great."

"Meh," he said with a smile, turning a page.

He hadn't expected ever to go to College. But he'd gone with Lisbon to Sacramento State University on a case a few months prior and he'd picked up a brochure there on a whim. That was when he'd told her he never had much of a formal education. The fact he never had somehow spiralled and wormed its way into his brain as a concern.

He knew he was clever – the smartest man in the room, he'd always said to people. He wondered if he perhaps stated that with so much bravado to make up for the fact that he never even graduated High School. His thoughts had turned to his daughter and what she would make of the fact he'd never really been to school when he'd made sure she had the best education money could offer and would continue to do so. In his heart, he knew it wouldn't matter to her, not really, that she would love him for who he was to her and not base it upon some degree he might achieve.

But the mere fact she might look down on him, even for a second, when she graduated herself in years to come had filled him with dread. But it wasn't just that inciting him to change direction in his life. He was thinking again as he worked with Lisbon and was inspired to learn more and more due to it. Catching criminals had made him feel good about himself too, making up for some of the misdeeds of his past. It was something that would make his daughter proud too.

For the first time in years his brain was being taxed and challenged and he loved every moment of it. Of course, Lisbon had offered him a full-time position at the CBI, the bosses there were more than enthusiastic about it considering the upturn in recent case closures, despite their personal relationship. He'd considered it but had refused politely, stating part time and ad hoc suited him better. The truth was that he was too afraid of unsettling the status quo in their personal life to spend more time there and was worried he may grow too overprotective if he watched her put herself in the line of fire. Out of sight was sometimes better even if he sometimes troubled with keeping it out of mind. Also, staring at dead bodies day in and day out didn't hold much appeal to him.

So he'd decided on College as a way of evaluating where his future career path might lie. And, even after he finished it and still was no further along, he'd have learned some stuff along the way about what he didn't want to pursue, at least. And maybe make his daughter a little more proud of him at the same time.

Lisbon finished getting ready for bed, slid in beside him and kissed him. He put the book down momentarily to deepen it.

"You've really no idea what you want to study?" she asked as he weaved a hand around her shoulders.

"English, I thought, maybe. But Environmental Studies looks interesting too," he said, placing the book on the floor beside him and snuggling under the covers, pulling her head towards his chest so he could wrap his arms around her.

"Not many jobs around with those choices," she said, ever the realist.

He chuckled, "Then there's also post grad, teaching, lecturing."

She nodded. "You'd be good at that."

"We'll see." He kissed her head and sighed happily. This was his favourite time of the day. In bed with the woman he loved and his daughter content and asleep right next door. "Now, you want to tell me what's troubling you or am I going to have to tickle it out of you?"

"Huh?"

"Wow, you really are the worst liar. When you were getting ready for bed you were distracted by something."

He shifted the fingers of his right hand to her side and under the T-shirt she wore. "Last chance," he smiled, grazing them slightly across her ribcage. She flinched immediately.

She swatted his hand away. "It's nothing."

He cleared his throat. "I see, this is going to have to be a coordinated attack, is it?" He rubbed his hands together in readiness.

"Okay!" she said before he got started. He'd once tickled her so badly she'd almost kicked him out of the bed. He'd just managed to protect his privates in time.

She moved across towards her side of the bed to look at him. Her pensive face made him nod slowly. "Whatever it is we'll work through it like we promised."

She smiled. "Yeah...it's...it's nothing bad. Or, at least, _I_ don't think it's something bad."

"O-kay," he replied slowly.

She expelled a calming breath. "Charlotte called me 'mommy' earlier."

Jane blinked quickly. "Oh."

She shook her head. "I-I don't think it was intentional, Patrick. She was almost asleep so...so it was just because of that, I'm assuming. You know, she wasn't thinking and it just came out."

When he saw the panic in her features he caressed her cheek. "Hey, it's okay."

"I-I'd never tell her to call me that, you know that, right?"

"Of course, I do." He sighed and licked his lips as he pondered for a few moments. "I doubt it was accidental," he finally decided.

"What?"

He smiled. "I know my daughter, Teresa. She was trying it out, see how you would react. How did you, by the way?"

"I was just stroking her hair, you know to get her to sleep when she said it. I-I just continued doing it and told her to go to sleep, kissed her forehead like I always do."

He teared up. He loved how caring and patient she was with Charlotte, still sometimes surprised at the difference to the persona she wore at work. If he hadn't already been in love with her, he would have fallen hook line and sinker with the tenderness she displayed for his daughter.

"Should I have told her not to call me that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Do you want her not to call you that?"

"Well, no...I mean...I don't know, Patrick. What do you want, she's your daughter?"

"I think we need to talk to her about it, just...just-"

"So she remembers Angela. Absolutely, I agree."

"But maybe it's not a bad idea for her to call you that. If you're okay with it. Or call you 'mom' and call Angela 'mommy'. Or vice versa, you know, something along those lines to make a distinction so she doesn't forget her...too much."

He swallowed thickly. Sometimes the guilt of him moving on with his life still hit him, usually when he least expected it like it had now. He recovered, "Or, I can tell her not to call you that if it makes you uncomfortable. For the time being."

She thought for a long moment. "It-It felt nice to be called that, actually," she said quietly.

He beamed a teary smile back at her. "Okay, option one it is, then."

"Wow," she said a second later. "That's...that was quite a moment."

He laughed and wiped a stray tear. "No kidding."

They kissed, a silent pact made. "I love you," she whispered as they embraced.

Those words sent shivers up his spine as they did the first time she'd uttered them a few months back. "I love you too."

He thought of his mother's words earlier. He had no idea his thoughts were turning to marriage again until she'd called him out on it. Now she had his brain couldn't stop thinking about it. Maybe it was too soon just yet to ask the question but the pieces of his life were falling perfectly into place for him to ask it sooner rather than later. By Christmas Eve Teresa and he would know each other a year. Maybe by then it would be time.

He thought back to that first meeting and how she'd looked when she first walked through his door, bedraggled and drenched from the rain.

He'd never believed in fate or karma, none of that.

But Teresa Lisbon had come into his life when he had least expected or even had wanted it, the result of bad weather and Christmas overcrowding.

When they hadn't been able to make it work the first time around through an equally surprising if horrific act of fate, she'd re-entered it again in even more of an astonishing fashion.

Their rekindled relationship had been different, more honest and more real between them, less to do with rainbows and unicorns in some fantastical romantic universe and more to do with two adults letting their guards down openly. It was more about appreciating each other for who they were and, more importantly, who they intended and wanted to be for each other during any hard times that might arise in the future. Maybe they were always supposed to fall at the first hurdle so they could pick each other up and cross the remaining ones together. If he had been someone who believed in god or some type of omniscient being he'd find it hard not to believe the universe hadn't always intended for their paths to cross again and again until they'd finally reached where they were now.

As he turned off the light beside them and Lisbon lay her head on his chest a last thought occurred to him before he closed his eyes, his arms around her.

Perhaps there was such a thing as serendipity, after all.

\- THE END -

* * *

 **A/N: Y** **ou may wish to have a salty snack now to counteract the sweetness contained in the epilogue.**

 **More seriously, thanks to all of you who have stuck with this story, you really have no idea how much I appreciate that with your reviews, your PMs and your positive thoughts on Twitter. It was a rough ride for me to get through the last few chapters and probably would not have without your kind words of support.**

 **I'll be heading back to my more angsty romantic plot driven roots with an update for Broken coming up next. Thanks again.**


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